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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307930">The Bitch is Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambercreek95/pseuds/ambercreek95'>ambercreek95</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl'>jewboykahl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Craig Tucker and Tweek Tweak in Love, Creek Week 2020 (South Park), Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:08:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambercreek95/pseuds/ambercreek95, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>CREEK WEEK 2020 - Day 6: Ghosts/Demons</p><p>After their second year of college, Tweek and Craig decide to upgrade from their tiny dorm to a crappy, inexpensive apartment. Not long after they settle in do they discover they do not reside there alone (and why rent is so cheap).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>sp creek server does creek week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey everyone!!! this is my final creek week submission, and it has been so fun!<br/>This awesome story is cowritten by the love of my life!! thank you so much to ambercreek95 for writing and brainstorming with me to get through this week! I'm so amazed by your endless talent and am feeling super lucky to be able to collaborate with you!! it's bee so fun and i can't wait to see where it goes!!<br/>thank you for all the love and kudos on all the other creek week stories and again to my creek sever family for endless support and love!!<br/>thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy kenny being a little shit (:</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.1</p><p>“Craig!” Tweek heaves loudly after bursting into his friend’s bedroom in the dead of the night, “It’s happening again!”</p><p>Craig jolts awake, chest tightened with temporary fear before quickly realizing it is only his paranoid roommate. Recovering from the sudden presence tearing him from his slumber, he trains his half-hooded eyes on the vibrating blond approaching his bedside. “What?”</p><p>“The noises, man! And th-the blinds! They’re rattling again, just like last night!” Craig flips on his bedside lamp, noticing Tweek’s light brown eyes glazed red. His tone is laced with terror. “What if it’s like… gnomes or something?!”</p><p>“Gnomes, Tweek?” Craig repeats through a yawn, “You’re hearing tapping on your walls, creaking on the floors, your blinds are rattling, and your first thought is <em> gnomes </em>?”</p><p>Tweek shoots him a disapproving glare, but lets the snarky comment slide. “What the hell am I going to do?! I haven’t gotten any sleep these past few nights, it’s fucking horrifying! What if someone’s, like, broken in and they’re hiding from me whenever I turn on the lights?! Or—” he pauses, sucking in a harsh gasp, fixing a widened stare on him, “Aliens?!” </p><p>“It’s not aliens,” Craig puffs out a short chuckle, rubbing his tired eyes with balled fists. “It’s probably just a draft or something, really. This is an old building and I have heard the upstairs neighbors a few times at night. You’re going to just have to get used to living in a crappy building instead of a nice dorm.” </p><p>Tweek groans at this, stowing his reddened gaze away, “I never thought I’d miss our dorm, but I sort of do. Are you not hearing anything in this room?!” </p><p>Craig shakes his head, “I haven’t really been listening for it at 3:00 A.M. either, though.” </p><p>“You know what, I am <em> so </em> sorry that this is <em> freaking me out </em>!” </p><p>Eyebrow raised, Craig shoots back, “You are not allowed to get all snippy with me after you woke me up in the middle of the night for no fucking reason, <em> again </em>. Ghosts are fake, and so are half the things that you’re paranoid about. Sorry if that was mean, but I don’t care right now. You’re fine, go to bed.” </p><p>Tweek tosses his arms up in the air in frustration. A combination of exhaustion, fury, and terror is causing his verbal tics to present themselves. “<em> Ngh </em>, why the hell would I make this up, man?! I’m not that fucking crazy! There’s something weird going on!” </p><p>“Dude, you are being paranoid. Think logically about this; why would a ghost just make random noises in your room without even doing anything? You think that an undead entity would just want to mess with you?” </p><p>“I don’t know, <em> would they </em> ?! Oh, <em> god! </em>” </p><p>Craig slaps the palm of his hand to his face, “Okay, I can’t do this. I’m going back to bed. If you want to freak out on me, you’re going to have to wait until at least 9 o’clock.” </p><p>With an exasperated huff, Tweek spins on his heels and saunters toward the exit, adding with finality before exiting, “Thanks for being such an asshole about it! You’re <em> so </em> good at making people feel better when they’re having a <em> crisis </em>!” </p><p>He hears Craig’s groggy, monotone voice groan a reply (something snarky, he’s sure), but the slammed door blocks out the noise. Arms crossed indignantly over his chest, he traces towards the bathroom to relieve himself before attempting to get some kind of sleep, which he knows is even less probable at this point with the looming anxieties about getting on Craig’s nerves. </p><p>Tweek has known for a while that he has feelings for his friend. Since the very first day the pair united, forced to share what was essentially a large bedroom their first year of college, he had developed a strong affinity towards the tall, dark, and dorky stranger. Craig is a calming presence, nice and boring, but witty and kind. They understand one another on a level that Tweek has never experienced before-- one that makes his heart ache for a more intimate relationship. He also happens to find Craig extremely attractive, which was not made easy by the daily act of changing clothes in front of one another (though he <em> totally </em>didn’t look). </p><p>Now, being the overly-analytical person he was, every slight downward twitch of Craig’s lips causes Tweek to spiral into a ceaseless abyss of <em> he loves me or loves me not </em>and horror at the thought of him getting on his nerves. It’s hopeless anyway. He’s not even really sure what Craig’s sexual preference is. He never talks about girls, goes on dates or even muses about the breast size of famous actresses like Clyde and Jimmy. With how little he gives away about his love life or sexual proclivity, he’s fairly certain he could be asexual. Therefore, Tweek has decided to just ignore his little crush and hope it goes away with time.  </p><p>In hindsight, it was probably a really stupid idea to agree to move into an old, cheap apartment building near campus with his crush. He was never one to make the best decisions, anyway. </p><p>“Dude, why do you guys have separate rooms? Aren’t you married or some shit?” </p><p>The voice is unfamiliar. The haunting tone of an unidentified person lurking behind him instantly sets the hairs on the back of his neck straight up. His previously trembling fingers completely freeze, falling limp at his sides and his large eyes widen as far as physics will allow. Slowly, feeling absolutely horrified, he turns to determine the source of the voice. </p><p>It’s a teenager. Maybe a man. It’s difficult to tell by the style of his clothing-- a threadbare, oversized jean jacket hangs loosely from his torso, a pair of baggy cargo pants adorning his legs. The hoodie beneath the jacket references some unrecognizable sports affiliation. When Tweek’s eyes adjust to the ethereal glow the intruder gives off, he takes a moment to examine the non-threatening face granting him a gap-toothed, lazy grin. Soft brown eyes stare ahead as if everything is normal, his face framed nicely by tossled sunshine ringlets. A soft bluish glow emits around his silhouette, like a paranormal aura.</p><p>It has been a full minute of Tweek staring wordlessly at the entity before him. The blond specter takes it upon himself to break the silence. “Shit, how rude of me not to introduce myself,” he clears his throat, “I’m Kenny, and I lived in this apartment before you and, well… I’m sorta dead. Nice to meet you,” </p><p>When the ghost takes a stride in Tweek’s direction, it’s as if all of the alarms come screaming back to life in his head. The initial mind-bending shock of the situation has worn off, leaving only unadulterated fear to cloud his mind. He releases a blood-curdling, prolonged, “<em> WAH! </em>”, before his brain and bodily functions shut down completely. With a thud, Tweek collapses onto the dirty, white carpet, passed out cold. </p><p>“Fuck, dude, that wasn’t supposed to happen,” Kenny mutters to himself, finishing the steps toward the new habitant of the apartment he haunts. </p><p>“Tweek?!” A concerned tone calls from down the hall not but seconds later. </p><p>Kenny watches as Tweek’s companion opens his door, looks out into the hallway. He flips his head back and forth before detecting the crumbled pile of blond boy on the floor between the doors to the second bedroom and the bathroom. Kenny backs into the shadows, watching with a heavy heart as the dark-haired man scoops up Tweek’s top-half tenderly. Gently, he gives the incapacitated boy’s shoulders a shake, but receives no response. The tall boy slowly traces Tweek’s forehead and cheek with the backside of his index finger. He shakes his head, mumbling, “What bullshit scared you so bad you fainted, Tweekers? Always so dramatic.”</p><p>With a <em> hrumph </em>, Craig lifts Tweek’s responseless body from the floor and is carrying him, princess style, into the bedroom. Kenny’s eyes are narrowed, watching the back of Craig’s head disappear into the other room. He verbalizes to no one, “Oh, I’m gonna scare the fuck outta that guy.” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>1.2</p><p>“Craig! Can you come here for a second? The coffee machine is doing something weird…”</p><p>“What’s it doing now?”</p><p>“It’s like... I dunno, it’s hard to explain. You just have to come and see.”</p><p>Craig groans, besmirching having to get up. Regardless, he drags himself up and away from his desk and his 10,000 word script assignment that he has barely written 10 words of in the past 45 minutes. </p><p>He drags his feet, scuffing the carpeted floors as he walks the short distance down the hall to the kitchen. “Okay,” Craig rounds the corner, “what’s the pr-WHAT THE FUCK!”</p><p>Craig jumps back, losing his footing and falling hard on his ass. His eyes are like saucers, practically popping out of his head. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. </p><p>The ‘problem’ with the coffee machine is that it’s airborne. The laws of gravity have forsaken this particular kitchen appliance. The coffee machine along with the half full pot are both floating 5 feet off the ground in the middle of the kitchen.</p><p>“Wh-Wha-? H-...” Craig’s mouth opens and closes, no words escaping. Tweek thinks that it makes him kind of look like a goldfish. If goldfish were 6’2” and tan and didn’t believe their best friend when they tell him <em> the apartment is fucking haunted </em>.</p><p>“Weird, right!” Tweek leans agains the counter, crossing his arms and feeling more than a little smug at the reaction his little stunt got. “I came in and there it is, just floating there. But, you know,” a wicked smirk falls across his elfin face, “<em> It’s probably just a draft or something. You know, this is an old building. </em>” echoing Craig’s statement from before.</p><p>“How the fuck are you doing this, Tweek?!” Craig’s normally monotone voice is bordering on the edge of hysterical. The half full pot of coffee starts rushing full throttle towards Craig. The raven-haired man yelps, covering his head with his hands, shielding himself from the blow, but it never comes.</p><p>Tweek is laughing hysterically, doubled over, hands on stomach, full body cackling. </p><p>“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE, TWEEK?!” His raging voice still muffled by his hands covering his face, “Why are you laughing?! What the FUCK is going on?!”</p><p>“Okay, Kenny, I think that’s enough now.” Tweek says, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, “I don’t want to have to clean his piss of the linoleum because we took it too far.”</p><p>“But it was just starting to get fun.” says a whiney voice. A voice that wasn’t coming from Tweek or Craig. </p><p>“Who the fuck was that?”</p><p>“It was me.” A man roughly around their age suddenly corporealises in front of them. He’s holding the pot and coffee machine in either hand and grinning like a mad man down at Craig. “I sure got you good, hey!”</p><p>Craig is stunned speechless. His wide eyes keep flicking back and forth between the two blonde men standing in the kitchen of their apartment. Tweek’s quite thankful that Kenny suggested this. Craig was giving him such a hard time yesterday about freaking out, and obtaining such a panicked response from the usually stoic man feels like sweet justice. </p><p>After Tweek passed out yesterday, he awoke to find the ghost sitting in his desk chair with a guilty expression on his face. He apologized profusely for scaring the blonde so much that he fainted. Tweek, after taking a moment to pinch himself and reaffirm that he was definitely awake, forgave him under the condition that he stops with all the rattling and banging while he was trying to sleep. Kenny then told Tweek that he heard him and Craig arguing earlier, and wanted to know if he wanted to have a little fun with the raven-haired man. </p><p>Tweek is very happy now that he agreed.</p><p>“Who the fuck are you?” Craig says, suddenly rediscovering his voice. He’s still sitting on the ground after his earlier stumble.</p><p>“This is Kenny.” Tweek says, jutting a thumb at the other blonde, who raises his hand in a wave. “He’s the ghost who’s been haunting this place and keeping me up at night, so no, <em> Craigory </em>, it wasn’t in my fucking imagination. Maybe next time I tell you something, you will remember this situation and actually consider the fact that I'm telling you the truth and not just acting fucking crazy!” Tweek, after having the final word, pushes himself up from where he’s leaning on the bench and stalks out of the kitchen, walking over Craig’s sprawled out legs to get there. He accidentally-on-purpose kicks Craig’s leg as he steps over. “Dick.”</p><p>Craig watches the spot that Tweek just disappeared from until he listens to the blonde’s bedroom door slam at the end of the hall. The sound jolts him out of his stupor. He locks eyes with Kenny who’s still grinning at him. </p><p>“Your roommate’s pretty cool.” Kenny says, finally placing the coffee machine back on the counter.</p><p>Craig just glares at him. How the fuck is any of this happening? Ghosts aren’t real. Aren’t SUPPOSED to be real. “Shut the fuck up.” he groans. He tries getting to his feet, but his legs feel like spaghetti and refuse to work. He plants himself back on his bony ass, escape no longer an option.</p><p>Kenny smirks, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, he did try to tell you. You can’t be that surprised.”</p><p>“Didn’t I just tell you to shut the fuck up?” Craig growls. Deciding that the humiliation is a small price to pay in exchange for getting away from this conversation, Craig pulls himself up onto his hands and knees and crawls away and out of the small kitchen.</p><p>Kenny just grins wider at the slowly retreating man. “Sorry we got off on the wrong foot, stretch, but you gotta give me a break. It’s hard to make friends being all, y’know, dead,” He yells after him, “But I think you and I are going to be great friends. just you wait and see!”</p><p>Once the second bedroom door slams, Kenny rubs his hands together smiling to himself. “This is going to be fun.”</p><p> </p><p>1.3</p><p>After three full minutes on hold, a voice finally chimes from the other line, “Good afternoon and thank you for calling Princeton Square Apartments. How may we assist you today?”</p><p>“Hey, yeah, can I speak with the property manager?” Craig requests as he twirls a spoon in his mug, mixing in an absurd amount of cream and sugar. He had never been a huge coffee drinker, but Tweek pours him a cup every morning they spend together, and rather than refusing a display of affection from his roommate, he douses the bitter drink with flavorful remedies.</p><p>“This is she,” the voice confirms, the chirp in her tone unwavering.</p><p>Craig’s memory lights up with the kind, sharp face of the woman he had met on move-in day. He furrows his eyebrows. “Oh, great. Yeah, so, I live in apartment 14 on Mary Jane, and something came to my attention recently that I just wanted to inquire about. Isn’t it illegal to rent someone an apartment or house or whatever the fuck you want to call it without telling them that someone died there? Especially if it’s not natural causes?”</p><p>“Uh, sir—”</p><p>“Like, a kid got fucking <em> shot and killed </em> in the apartment that I live in barely a year ago, and you didn’t even mention it. And according to Google, I can sue you.”</p><p>There’s a long pause. "I’m very sorry, sir,” Then, an offer is extended, “How does three months free rent sound?”</p><p>Tweek pinches his eyebrows together, taking notice in the change of Craig’s previously furious expression. He’s listening to one half of the conversation as he sips at his black coffee and munches at a blueberry muffin he had whipped up. </p><p>Craig runs his tongue against his top row of teeth as he digests this decision. He says, “Let me check with my roommate and call you back.” He hangs up before the property manager can respond.</p><p>“What did she say?!” Tweek questions, eyes flicking over to the apparition that had made himself visible, flinching less dramatically than usual at the sudden appearance of Kenny.</p><p>The pair had come to interact much more with their ghostly, built-in roommate, and did their best to come to terms with the absolutely bizarre scenario they have found themselves in. They learned that the boy had died somewhat recently via a gunshot wound after he startled a couple of amateur robbers. They also learnt that his name is Kenny McCormick, and he was only a year older than them when he died. While Tweek’s terror was being replaced by admiration and pity for the dead young adult, Craig’s familiarity with the presence was manifesting into annoyance for his cocky persona.</p><p>Kenny leans against the wall, listening intently with Tweek. Craig lets out a sigh, already aggravated by the second blond’s presence as he addresses Tweek’s inquiry. “She offered us free rent for three months.”</p><p>“What?! They’re not even going to apologize or acknowledge that they fucked up?!” Tweek spouts angrily, “I mean, no offense, Kenny, but this is <em> fucked </em> up! We’re living with a ghost! They didn’t even tell us this was a <em> murder apartment </em>!”</p><p>“I definitely agree,” Craig sighs, “but, honestly… can we even afford to move out?”</p><p>“If we sue them for putting us in this shitty situation we can!”</p><p>Kenny pouts a lip teasingly. “Your ‘no offense’ is starting to wear off, man.”</p><p>Craig sends Kenny a glare. “Don’t you have some children to scare or something? This is a conversation for rent-paying residents.”</p><p>“I’m sorry my lingering soul is such a burden on you, good sir.” Kenny snorts, turning his attention back to Tweek, “Suing people is expensive, though, man. Unless ya want to do some kinda <em> sue-ance </em> and take the eight dollars I had on me when I died, I can’t help.”  </p><p>With a melodramatic groan, Tweek allows his head to flop forward and slam against the wooden circular table before them. “Why didn’t we just stay in the dorms?” his whining voice muffled by the table.</p><p>Rubbing his temples, completely perplexed by the situation that befell him, Craig addresses the ghost. “How the fuck did you afford a two bedroom apartment by yourself if you only had eight dollars on you?”</p><p>“I lived here with my boyfriend, smartass,” Kenny quips, enjoying the double-takes he obtained from both of his living companions after revealing his preferences. “How do you think it is that I can tell that you two are hot for each other? Takes a queer to know a queer.”</p><p>“Would you shut the fuck up with that, dude?” Craig groans. He takes a long sip of coffee to hide the blush that immediately creeps across his tan cheeks.</p><p>Kenny had been berating the two about being interested in one another for the entirety of the three days they had the (dis)pleasure of interacting with him. It sent Tweek into a sputtering panic-mode and caused Craig to become fiercely flushed. He is especially furious about the accusation because it is exceedingly accurate.</p><p>Craig fell for Tweek very gradually, and then all at once. There was one particular day that they had spent the entirety of together without meaning to when he fell head over heels for his artsy, anxiety-ridden roommate. As they chatted, laughed, and opened up to one another, each brush of the elbow or nudge of the knee had begun to make Craig’s heart flutter and his head spin. That night as Tweek snored in the bed across the room, instead of wanting to strangle him as he normally did, he found himself smiling fondly at the suddenly adorable noises he emitted. Instead of being kept up by the loudness, he laid awake contemplating why his stomach suddenly churned at the thought of Tweek’s smile, and why the thought of kissing him had begun circling his mind.  </p><p>After a moment of contemplation, Tweek verbalizes his conclusion. “Let’s just take it… trying to find an apartment in the first place was way too much pressure and we could use the extra cash right now. Plus… We can handle Kenny, right?”</p><p>Kenny smirks, “I know you could handle me, baby.”</p><p>“I can’t.” Craig retorts, “If killing him again was possible, I would definitely do it.”</p><p>“Craig! That’s really insensitive!” Tweek scolds, sending the ghost an apologetic frown.</p><p>“Whatever,” the dark-haired boy grunts, grasping the handle of his neglected coffee and strutting towards the sink. He dumps the light brown concoction out of his mug and down the drain, rinses it, and places it on the drying rack adjacent to the metal basin. On shuffling toward his bedroom, he remarks, “I will call those guys tomorrow. I’m going to go look up how to exorcise a spirit.”</p><p>Tweek scoffs on Kenny’s behalf, who appreciates it, and grants Tweek a grin. “He’s mad because he knows I’m right.”</p><p>Tweek frowns and sucks down another gulp of coffee. His homemade pastry had been forgotten, stress and confusion rendering his appetite nonexistent. “I can’t believe a ghost thinks that my roommate has a crush on me. My parents really dropped the ball on teaching me how to handle supernatural encounters.”</p><p>Kenny lets out a chuckle, taking a stride in Tweek’s direction. “Don’t worry, man, I’m not gonna be haunting your place forever. I’ve died a ton of times and I always come back.”</p><p>Snapping his neck in his direction, Tweek furrows his brows, “What the fuck are you talking about?! What part of not being able to handle all this insanity am I not making apparent!”</p><p>“Sorry, man, I thought it might help,” Kenny laughs again. “You’re funny, Tweek. I like you.”</p><p>Tweek’s next reply comes across as a squawk, “What do you mean you’ve died a ton of times?!”</p><p>Kenny shrugs, “I die all the time. I’ve got this curse or something. I can’t die. I’m immortal…” he pauses, adopting a suddenly serious connotation. “Sometimes I just see a bright light, sometimes I see Heaven or Hell… Sometimes I just get stuck floating around as a ghost. It’s only a matter of time before I wake up in my bed, wearing my same old clothes, right next to my man. Though, I don’t know where the fuck that’ll be since he moved out.”</p><p>“Can you blame him?!” Tweek huffs, reactively. He wets his lips, chewing and swallowing the information revealed to him by his supernatural acquaintance. “Why can’t you go back this time?”</p><p>“No idea… I’m not worried, though. One time I was dead for, like, a whole season of my favorite show. But, I came back. I always do,” Kenny’s lighthearted nature returns, accompanied by his presumptuous grin. </p><p>Tweek swallows hard, posing his next question tentatively. He can’t help himself—he wants to learn more about a particular aspect of Kenny’s former life. “Do you… I mean, I bet you really miss your boyfriend...”</p><p>“Like crazy.” Kenny confirms, nodding slowly.</p><p>The two fall into silence, pining thoughts of boys plaguing their minds.  </p><p>1.4</p><p>Craig really did try to block out the noise, but after twenty minutes straight of listening to Tweek and Kenny reacting loudly to consecutive rounds of “Song Quiz” on Alexa, he can officially not focus on the assigned reading for his class.</p><p>On entering the living area of the apartment, the two blonds come into view, both cackling loudly. Over the course of the few weeks they had spent living in awareness of their resident ghost, Tweek had been spending a lot of time talking to and getting to know him. It was a strange turn of events in Craig’s mind, considering Tweek’s petrified initial reaction to Kenny’s existence. Their bond caused him additional irritation toward Kenny, whom he had begun referring to as “the bitch”.</p><p>“Hey, can you two please shut up? I’m trying to do homework.” Craig requests bluntly, shuffling into the kitchen before he can gauge the pair’s reaction.</p><p>A sheepish “Sorry, Craig,” follows him as he grabs a water bottle from the fridge. Twisting off the cap as he traces back into the room, he is met with a half-smile for Tweek and a full-on shit-eating-grin from Kenny.</p><p>“You sad I’m entertaining your man without you?”</p><p>Craig rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his water before spitting back, “Actually, I am just angry that I have to hear you over myself thinking.”</p><p>Tweek frowns. “We’ll keep it down. I didn’t realize we were shouting or anything.”</p><p>“It’s not really you, Tweekers,” Craig amends, glare remaining fixed on Kenny.</p><p>The ghost perks his head over at Tweek. “It’s me, babe. He’s jealous that I’m more fun and better at flirting with you than he is.”</p><p>“Shut the <em> fuck up </em>, Kenny, I’m not fucking jealous.” Craig seethes, losing his cool for a split second. The harsh demand in place of a usually sardonic, half-hearted quip alarms both blonds. Slightly embarrassed by his outburst, he clears his throat, “Just… please keep it down.”</p><p>Tweek and Kenny watch in mutual shock as Craig scurries back into his bedroom and slams the door shut. When the coast is clear, Kenny releases the hearty laugh he had been holding back. Tweek maintains a vexed expression, “Dude, can you please lay off of him with all that stuff? He clearly doesn’t like me.”</p><p>Kenny cocks an eyebrow at him, “Really? What is the heterosexual explanation for his overreaction to what I just said to him?”</p><p>“You’re just annoying him! Craig isn’t even gay.” </p><p> Kenny puffs out another laugh. He ignores Tweek’s pinched eyebrows, correcting him, “Are you braindead or something? That guy is definitely not straight, and definitely into you. He gets all pissy about me bringing it up because he knows it’s true.”</p><p>It is Tweek's turn to feel defensive. He’s not sure why he feels the need to argue against Craig possessing romantic feelings for him, as that is something that he deeply desires to be a reality. He decides it would just be too hard if he were to learn definitively that it was <em> not </em>. “Why wouldn’t he just tell me if he likes me?!”</p><p>“Are ya kidding?” The ghost shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you ask yourself that question?”</p><p>Tweek huffs in exasperation, “It doesn’t even matter, okay?! Craig is straight and definitely doesn’t have feelings for me,”</p><p>“I will prove that he does. Mark my words.” Kenny’s tone is threatening, but his grin is warm.</p><p>Tweek can’t help but grin at the thought of another supernatural antic that will probably end up scaring Craig to his core again. He thought Craig looked absolutely adorable when scared, enjoying his befuddled expression in place of his generally stoic one. Although the matter is dropped, Tweek can’t help but wish and wonder whether or not Kenny will be able to do what he says he can. </p><p> </p><p>1.5</p><p>“Whatcha ya dooooing?” </p><p>Kenny is lying on Craig’s bed while Craig sits at his desk, fucking around on his laptop. Tweek is at work today. He works as a barista at a small coffee shop on campus. His absence means that Kenny has no one to talk to, so he instead attempts to engage with Craig.</p><p>Craig ignores him, not interested in talking to Kenny. He misses the time before the ghost was around 24/7, when he had Tweek to himself. Now, he barely gets any time to spend with Tweek alone. </p><p>“You like <em>Hollow Knight</em>?” Kenny asks, referencing the game that Craig’s playing.</p><p>Silence follows, the only sound in the room being the <em> tap-tap-tap </em> of Craig’s fingers on the keyboard.</p><p>Kenny stares at the black hair curling at the nape of Craig’s neck. Kenny could squint his eyes and almost pretend that it wasn’t Craig sitting on the other side of the room from him, but his own sorely missed raven-haired boyfriend. </p><p>“Y'know, you kind of look like a spicy, ethnic version of my boyfriend.”</p><p>Craig scoffs. “That’s pretty racist.”</p><p>“I was just saying!” Kenny purses his lips, pouting at the ceiling. “...Sorry.”</p><p>Silence once again fills the room. Kenny never liked the quiet all that much, It made him feel antsy.</p><p>“Where are you from anyway? Brazil? Argentina?” </p><p>“....Peru.”</p><p>“That’s cool! That’s the place with all the guinea pigs aye?”</p><p>“....Yep.”</p><p>Kenny clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. After half a minute, he pipes up again. “So… are both your parents from Peru? Or just one?”</p><p>Craig sighs exasperatedly. He pauses his game and spins his chair around, facing the annoying ghost. “Kenny, what do you want?”</p><p>Kenny sits up on the bed, crossing his legs. “I’m bored,” he whines. “Talk to me. Tell me more about yourself.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Why? Why don’t you like me?”</p><p>“Because.”</p><p>“Because <em> why?” </em></p><p>“Because I find you very irritating.” </p><p>“Okay? So is that one Clyde dude that comes over—“ </p><p>“Clyde doesn’t ruin everything like you do!” He barely exhales before continuing, “You just had to show up here and ruin everything!”</p><p>“What do you mean ‘ruin everything’? What have I done?” Kenny moves to standing, indignation making him too restless to sit.</p><p>“You just showed up and now you and Tweek are spending all this time together and I don’t get to spend any alone time with him anymore!” Craig clamps his mouth shut, realizing that he’s said too much.</p><p>“Oh,” Kenny says, standing in front of Craig with his arms crossed, “so that’s the reason… y’know, if you like him so much, you should just say something to him.”</p><p>Craig’s face turns an alarming shade of red. “I do <em> not </em>like Tweek!” He protests.</p><p>Kenny just rolls his eyes at the blatant lie. “You’re fucking hopeless. You know that Tweek doesn’t even know that you’re gay? That’s how fucking vague you are.”</p><p>“Tweek doesn’t know I’m gay?” Confusion evident in Craig’s tone. He knows he doesn’t talk about that stuff in front of Tweek much, but surely he must know that he is attracted to men? Tweek was practically a walking pride flag, with his rainbow pins and ‘kiss whoever the fuck you want’ t-shirt. How could it be that after 2 years of spending practically all their time outside of classes and work together that he never once mentioned his sexual preferences? </p><p>“Yep,” the blond pops the ‘p’, as if just to get on Craig’s nerves. It works. “So if you’re going to be an idiot and act like you’re not completely infatuated with the shaky little twink, you should at least come out to the poor boy.” Kenny thinks to himself that if Tweek knew that Craig was gay, maybe he’d grow some balls and make a move. God knows Craig’s never going to. </p><p>Craig bites down on his lip, thinking hard about what Kenny has said. It’s the first thing that has come out of the spirit’s mouth that was not completely idiotic.</p><p>“...I’ll think about it.”</p><p>Kenny rolls his eyes. He’s not really sure what he was expecting from the robotic man. He guessed this is the best he can hope for.</p><p>“Well, don’t take too long.” Kenny steps through the door, disappearing through it. His head pokes back through the door, staring straight at Craig. “There’s a lot of guys out there who would kill for someone as awesome as him, and they won’t be too pussy to make a move. Like, me, if I was alive and single.”</p><p>With that, Kenny disappears. Craig spins in his chair, head collapsing on the keys of his laptop with a loud groan. This ghost is ruining his life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for all the love and support on the last chapter yall!! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>2.1</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig and Tweek are on minute thirty of their friend showing them Tik Toks, cackling through every one of them. Kenny thinks he’s going to lose his mind. And what the hell is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tik Tok</span>
  </em>
  <span>, anyway?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde is the most frequent non-resident visitor of the apartment. If Kenny was asked to describe what he thought Craig’s best friend would be like, it would be the exact opposite of his actual best friend. Clyde is boisterous, charismatic, and borderline hyperactive—how he got in the good graces of Craig’s bitter stoicism was beyond him. While he found the puppy-like brunette adorable and entertaining, he could not even begin to picture how that relationship came to fruition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny has been spending a plethora of time getting to know Tweek, much to Craig’s chagrin. The repressed asshole lashing out at him for stealing time away from his crush didn’t deter him in the slightest from spending time with the only person available to him in his plane of existence (aside from the aforementioned repressed asshole that can’t stand him). Had it not been for his limited options, there is no doubt in his mind that he and Tweek would still be good friends; he’s clever, creative, and funny. It’s much easier to comprehend why Craig is in love with him than how he and Clyde’s friendship survived so long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I gotta take a waz,” Clyde announces between laughs, rubbing a tear from his eye as he pushes himself off of the couch. Kenny watches for a moment as Tweek and Craig exchange sweet, coy smiles before turning their attention to their own mobile devices. He rolls his eyes at how hopeless they are for one another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having had enough of the roommates’ denial-ridden sex eyes, Kenny meanders down the hall toward Tweek’s bedroom. Occasionally he will hang out and admire the soothing environment. The wall beside his twin bed was covered by a massive teal and green Mandala tapestry, and the bedding itself mimicked the color scheme. The man had shelves of crystals of varying sizes and a few decorative incense burners displayed on his nightstand and desk, which also housed a miniature, acrylic waterfall. String lights were hung above his workspace which provided a soft but adequate amount of light for Tweek when he would work. Despite the several abandoned, half-full coffee mugs and the clothes strung all over the space, it was extremely relaxing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though Kenny would no longer experience any sense other than sight, he could imagine the oaky smell of the incense wafting into his nostrils. It reminds him of his boyfriend’s brief holistic phase—which lasted for about one week. He grins fondly whenever he recalls it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On his way to invading Tweek’s sanctuary, he is distracted by Clyde singing to himself in the restroom. He doesn’t recognize the tune, but he’s melodically repeating the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>Havana</span>
  </em>
  <span> shamelessly vociferously. Kenny finds it really humorous, and he wonders what it would be like to actually speak to this kid. He was urged by Tweek and Craig to be a hidden figure when his friends came about, but Clyde seemed different—he is around </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, he’s bored. He needs to come back to life and get laid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boredom plants a cheeky idea in his brain. Smirking to himself, he enters the restroom that was in use by Clyde, still humming to himself. Thankfully (not that Kenny really cared at this point), Clyde had finished up his business and is washing his hands. Kenny wracks his brain for something hilarious or clever to utter and freak this kid out, and after a few minutes of pandering to his dead brain cells, he finally comes up with: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clyde,</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s simple, but effective. Clyde is instantly frozen with paranoia at the stereotypical, moaning ghost impression Kenny puts on. His round, brown eyes are saucers, darting around the room in attempts to detect the source of the noise. “Hello?” he whispers dumbly to seemingly nobody.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny holds back his sputters, attempting to recall cheesy horror movie one-liners, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clyde… don’t go into the light, Clyde</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What… what is that?” the frightened brunette’s voice remains uncharacteristically quiet as he slowly backs up against the porcelain sink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Redrum, redrum</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde huffs, trembling, “Craig, is that you?! It’s not fucking funny, man!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not Craig… I’m a ghost,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kenny brings his fingertips to his lips to aid in stifling his chuckle, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m a spooky ghost here to suck your blood</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ghosts don’t… okay, whatever you guys,” Clyde is over halfway convinced now that either Tweek and Craig are messing with him. He scoffs, feeling ridiculous for remotely falling for the shenanigan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you, Clyde, it isn’t Craig, it is a blood-sucking ghost… from the future</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t make any sense! If you’re a ghost, you can’t touch people and you are from the past. You’re such an idiot, Craig,” Clyde groans, striding to the bathroom door and tugging it ajar, fully prepared to catch his friend red-handed, trying and failing to mess with him. His expression becomes perplexed when he sees no sign of either friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny lets himself cackle at Clyde’s initial and continued fear at the situation. The kid is so easy. Sometimes Kenny enjoys having these supernatural abilities.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not really, but it is funny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys are </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> hilarious,” Clyde deadpans on returning to the living room where he left Tweek and Craig.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig cocks an eyebrow, questioning the seemingly random declaration without looking up from his iPhone, “I know, but why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Clyde snorts, “Oh, I don’t know. Didn’t have </span><em><span>anything</span></em><span> to do with that little stunt you pulled on me in the bathroom. I know you guys </span><em><span>totally</span></em> <em><span>didn’t</span></em><span> just pretend to be ghosts to freak me out.”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek and Craig exchanged confused expressions before coming to the realization of what occurred in unison. Craig grants him a quick, mischievous smirk before turning to Clyde with a stone-cold expression, “Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he floats above the congregation of friends, doing everything in his power not to burst into a fit of obnoxious laughter, Kenny feels appreciation for Craig for the first time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde grunts, “I’m not fucking stupid, Craig. You guys were trying to mess with me. How stupid do you think I am?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you really want me to answer that question?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clyde, seriously, we don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tweek amends, eyes scanning the room for Kenny’s apparition, an amused grin ghosting his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys are so annoying,” the brunette fusses, seeping into the couch cushion beside Craig. The matter is momentarily dropped until another bout of nonsensical, ghostly moaning fills the space.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Get out, Clyde… Leave this place...</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde jumps up, gazing hastily between his friends, “How are you doing that?! Stop it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At the risk of repeating myself,” Craig begins, eyes on Tweek. The playful gleam lets his roommate know to play along, “What the fuck are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you guys doing that voice thing—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Avada kedavra… Expelliarmus</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek almost breaks, but quickly recovers with a dramatic sigh that thankfully goes unnoticed, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clyde, are you alright, man?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO! You guys are trying to punk me and it’s lame! Just tell me how in the hell you’re doing this!” The target of Kenny’s teasing pleas. The smallest amount of guilt forms within him for messing with the poor kid, but once he figures he’s the unlucky, undead one, he continues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop tailgatin’ me, ya pasty tea bag</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde stomps his foot childishly, shouting this time, “Stop it! What the fuck is happening?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig is laughing now, partially at Kenny’s pitiful lack of terrifying material, and also at his friend’s state of pure, anguished confusion. The breaking of character encourages Kenny to emerge from the shadows, doubled-over in laughter. When Clyde’s stare meets the newly materialized ghost, his boyish face instantly drains of all color besides a vague green tinge. His lips part, but no words come out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s chuckling as well, which only makes the situation more terrifying to him. The living blond attempts to explain, “So, this is Kenny. He sorta got shot and killed in the apartment, so he’s a ghost that just chills out around here. He probably thought it would be funny to mess with you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And he was absolutely right,” Craig snorts, “your face is fucking priceless.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny smirks, still inwardly pleased at Craig taking his side for the first time. He addresses Clyde, “Nice to meet you. Officially,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde pauses for a moment, paralized in time. It’s all just too bizarre. It’s unbelievable. He can’t believe it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Clyde shakes his head, raising his arms in submission, “Hell no.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, Clyde rushes out of the apartment, leaving Kenny and Craig in absolute stitches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek wants to join in on the joke, but he feels a bit bad for their friend. He verbalizes these thoughts, “You guys, that was a little harsh…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig waves him off, “He will be okay, Tweek. He’s just a giant baby.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Tweek sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you’re dealing with Bebe.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>2.1.5</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s scrolling through reddit conspiracy threads while SNL plays in the background when his phone rings. It’s Bebe. He’s already got a pretty good idea what this will be about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey B, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Tweek, not much, not much, but… um… do you think you could maybe give me some insight as to </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> my boyfriend is currently curled up in the foetal position in our bathtub holding a crucifix?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh…”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>2.2</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s lounging on his stomach across the sofa, watching Tweek practice his original composition on his keyboard piano. Kenny was relegated to the couch when Tweek declined Kenny’s offer to play another round of song quiz, stating that he has to practice for his upcoming exam for his musical composition unit. With Kenny around, he had been slacking off more than usual in favour of getting to know the rambunctious spirit which, when studying a double degree in music and art on a scholarship, was not something Tweek could afford to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny didn’t mind so much getting to just sit and watch Tweek play though. It really was a thing of beauty. The way Tweeks long, elegant fingers danced across the keys, how his eyes closed and a soft serene smile graced his face, how the melody filled the air and wrapped around them like a cozy sweater. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was most evident in moments like these that Kenny could see why Craig was so hopelessly in love with the blonde. Tweek was the kind of guy who only came around once in a lifetime. That’s why Kenny couldn’t figure it out for the life of him why Craig won’t pull his head out of his own ass and make the blonde his. Or at the very least tell Tweek that he’s gay so that Tweek will take the plunge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The abrupt end in the haunting melody pulls Kenny out of his thoughts. Tweek’s hands drop off the keys, coming up to rub his eyes with the heel of his palm. A slight groan slipped out between his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything alright bud?” Kenny asks, floating up into a seated position.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I just need a break.” Tweek lifts his hands off his eyes, “If I play it too much, it starts to sound all wrong. Like, you know when you stare at a word for so long that it starts to look not right? It’s kind of like that. All the notes start to sound off key and the melody doesn’t fit and then I get fixated on it and start to change things that don’t need to be changed until I end up with a huge mess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny, listening wraptly to his ramble, waits for Tweek to take a breath before he jumps in. “Play me somethin else then? And then you can go back to practising afterwards.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek throws a sceptical look over his shoulder at the ghost. “Play what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny floats over towards Tweek sitting crossed legged mid air in front of the blonde and his keyboard. “I dunno… anything. What’s the first song that comes to mind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek looks dumbly down at the keys for a moment before placing fingers on them. He starts to play an upbeat tune all too familiar. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner, that is what I truly wish to be.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tweek finishes the last note with a theatrical flourish of his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny laughs loudly. “Oh god no, anything but that! It will be stuck in my head for days!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweeks chuckles, happy to get such a boisterous reaction. He decides to try for another. He starts to play again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Out of paper, out of stock, there're friendly faces around the block, break loose from the chains that are causing your pain. Call Michael or Stanley, Jim, Dwight or Creed. Call Andy and Kelly for your business paper needs. Dunder Mifflin. The people person's paper people. Dunder Mifflin. The people person’s paper people.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>By the end of the song, Tweeks giggling so hard, the words are completely indecipherable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny chuckles, but he mostly looks puzzled. “I have no idea what that one is my dude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweeks mouth drops into a shocked ‘O’. “You’ve never seen the Office?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny shakes his head slowly, not wanting to admit to the crime of never seeing the show that Tweek feels very passionately about. “Isn’t that the show with that guy who’s shacked up with Emily Blunt? I fucking love her. She was so god damn hot in ‘Edge of Tomorrow’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s John Krasinski.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That it’s! Fuck he’s pretty hot too. I’d like to be the meat in their sandwich, if you know what I’m saying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek pulls a disgusted face. “Gross, can you not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t help it babe, it’s in my nature” Kenny sticks his tongue out and winks at Tweek, which he chooses to steadfastly ignore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow when I go to class, I’m setting you up with the first season of The Office to watch so that you can begin to educate yourself and I can continue this friendship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay boss.” Kenny salutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek turns back towards the keyboard, wracking his brain for something else to play. He hopes that Kenny knows the next jingle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was shoppin' for a new car, which one’s me?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s face lights up as he joins in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A cool convertible, or an SUV? Too bad I didn’t know my credit was whack. ‘Cause now I’m drivin’ off the lot in a used compact. F-R-E-E that spells FREE Credit Report Dot Com Baby. Saw their ads on my TV. Thought about goin but was too lazy. Now instead lookin’ fly and rollin’ fat. My legs are stickin’ to the vinyl and my posse's gettin’ laughed at. F-R-E-E that spells FREE Credit Report Dot Com Baby”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek and Kenny both erupt into howling laughter. “That was actually pretty damn impressive, if I do say so myself” Tweek says, between cackles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah!” Kenny yells, fist pumping up in the air. “We sounded tight! We should start a band!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek just laughs even harder at that. “And we only play one song; the </span>
  <em>
    <span>FREE Credit Report </span>
  </em>
  <span>jingle’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine by me.” Kenny smiles widely at Tweek, honey brown eyes scrunched up in delight. “Now,” Kenny’s face is overcome with a sudden seriousness. “Play me an actual song.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” Tweek pulls on a loose thread hanging from the left sleeve of his favourite cable knit sweater, wrapping it tightly around his index finger, making the skin where the string is turn white and numb</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, whatever comes to you…” Tweek just looks at the spirit blankly. Kenny sighs. “Just play whatever your heart is telling you to play, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek releases the string, watching the blood rush back into the tip of his index finger. The numbness being replaced by pins and needles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart only beats for one thing lately, and so he starts to play.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The melody coming from the keyboard’s speakers is haunting. It's melancholic and beautiful and so desperately sad that it makes Kenny regret asking Tweek to play and bear his soul through a song. That feeling doubles when Tweek starts to sing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Turn down the lights, turn down the bed. Turn down these voices inside my head. Lay down with me, tell me no lies. Just hold me close, don't patronize, don’t patronize me”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny can’t help but admire the captivating, honeyed croon of the man in front of him, despite the sorrow that is so prominent in each word that is sung. Tweek swallows audibly before launching into the chorus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cause I can't make you love me if you don't. You can't make your heart feel somethin' that it won't. And here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I will feel the power but you won't… No you won't. ‘Cause I can't make you love me when you don't… when you don't…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tweek's voice grows to a whisper as the last word is sung, the grief for a thing that never even was, too heavy in his throat. Tweek drops his head, feeling embarrassed and exposed. He’s glad that Craig wasn’t home to witness it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny stares at the crown of Tweek’s curly blonde hair, trying to figure out what to say. When words fail him, he scooches onto the edge of the piano stool Tweek is sitting on, wrapping his ghostly arm around Tweek's shoulders and leaning into him. He knows that Tweek can't actually feel it, but he hopes that the action brings him some level of comfort. After a moment, Kenny breaks the silence. “I’m sorry Tweek.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Tweek chuckles humorlessly, “It’s not your fault that I’m unlovable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's not true! You’re very lovable Tweek! I think you’re-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kenny,” Tweek says, cutting the ghost off. “I appreciate what you’re about to say, but just… please don’t…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny looks at the blonde sadly. He wishes Tweek could see himself the way Kenny sees him… the way </span>
  <em>
    <span>Craig</span>
  </em>
  <span> sees him. “Ok… I won’t… but just know that if I wasn’t dead and taken, I’d be all over you like a rash.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek laughs, a genuine laugh this time. “Thanks Kenny.” Tweek gives him a half smile, but his eyes still look a little sad. They sit in silence for a little while, both thinking of raven haired boys who they can’t be with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek clears his throat, making Kenny jerk his head towards him. “I appreciate the hug and all Ken, but…” Tweek looks a little sheepish, smirk tugging at his lips, “you’re fucking freezing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny released Tweek from under his arm, smirking right back at the blonde. “Is it because I’m so cool, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Haha wow... that was actually terrible.” The way he was laughing made it pretty apparent to the ghost that that was a lie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>2.3</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Much to his annoyance, Craig’s body wakes him up a half-hour before his alarm goes off. After he’s accepted he will not be getting that beautiful last few thirty minutes, he stares up at the glow in the dark stars he pasted to the ceiling. They cause a grin to stretch his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the second day that the apartment was officially Tweek and Craig’s, they spent the better half of an hour decorating the smooth, white ceiling with the small, luminous plastic cutouts of planets and stars. They were listening to one of Tweek’s playlists that heavily featured artists from the 70s and basking in the glory of having a significantly increased amount of living space. They were laughing, dancing, and eventually, fighting over who would stick the last few stars onto the flat canvas of the upper wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig flushes at the memory of Tweek following him onto one of their kitchen chairs, allowing their bodies to press together. He had stretched his much smaller arm as far as physics and tip-toes had allowed him, but Craig easily won the battle with his lanky limbs. After a teasing laugh and groans of defeat, the pair remained for a blissful moment, stuck in time. He remembers being close enough to feel his breath fan across his chin, the faint scent of coffee wafting into his nose. Tweek gave him one of those sweet, angelic smiles that makes you feel like you may actually matter. Strands of long, bright hair had broken free from the scrunchie he had used to loosely contain them. For the first time, he noticed the tint of green in the boy’s light brown eyes, which had been revealed from the glow of the sun pouring in through their window. He recalls the lump in his throat, the tremor of his hands, the pause in his dialogue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In real time, he’s smacking his palms up to his face. He moans quietly to himself, “How the fuck does he not know I’m gay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig pushes forces himself upright and ambles to his dresser, collecting various articles of clothing from his drawers until he’s assembled an outfit. He wanders out of his bedroom and down the hall, where he stops in his tracks when he hears the shower going and the soft hum of Tweek’s voice. Furrowing his brow, he removes his phone from the deep pocket of his gym shorts. The small screen tells him that it’s 7am on a Saturday. “Fuck,” he sighs deeply at the realization that he does not have his 8 o’clock class, and Tweek is getting ready for his shift at work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before returning to bed, Craig lingers at the threshold. He grins at the melodic swell of Tweek’s voice barely escaping the room. It’s some Queen song, he thinks—or maybe Elton John. Either way, hearing Tweek’s sweet humming about being a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy</span>
  </em>
  <span> effectively perks him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The strong, sudden urge to join his roommate invades his mind. The unavoidable image of stepping into the visible steam to find Tweek’s unclothed, fit body being scrubbed clean makes his mouth water. He’s seen a lot of Tweek before (a pro and a con of sharing a dorm, as he’s sure Tweek has seen plenty of him as well), and he knows his body is thin and lean, despite the slight pudge of his tummy probably due to his poor eating habits and constant coffee consumption. Thanks to this knowledge, the fantasy is vivid, and makes his chest tight with desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Craig mutters to himself for the second time, even more aggravated by his own stupidity. He spins on his heels and speeds off into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He places his pile of clothes on the counter and takes a moment to collect himself. It’s extremely dangerous to let his mind wander to those places, especially when Tweek is awake, and especially in the morning  when something </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span> is already up as well. Craig distracts himself by preparing himself a bowl of cereal to eat and starting a pot of coffee for Tweek. Normally he lets his roommate brew his own elixir, but he feels a bit guilty for thinking about pressing their naked bodies together, and like he needs to make up for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not too long later, Tweek comes rushing into the kitchen. Craig is leaning against the counter, slowly eating a bowl of cereal while scrolling through his phone. He peers up at him, noticing his hair is still moist, and he’s clad in his uniformed apron already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what are you doing up?” He questions, rustling in the pantry for a granola bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig replies, “Couldn’t sleep. I made you some coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek cocks an eyebrow at him, “You woke up early </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re drinking coffee? Are you feeling alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, he just nods and slurps on his sugar-ridden drink. He watches the blond fill a thermos with the dark liquid out of the corner of his eye. Tweek shoots him a grin, “You know I work at a coffee shop, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig huffs, “I didn’t really think about it, I was just trying to be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m kidding!” Tweek chuckles, placing a hand on Craig’s back. His smile falters a bit, “Seriously, are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I’m fine. Just tired. Sorry,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just checking,” Tweek’s smile returns. It’s the kind that makes Craig feel special—the sweet, kind, angelic one. “I’m running late, though. I’ll see you later!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Craig lets out a breath. A moment of panic falls over him as he watches Tweek’s retreating form. He needs to do this now, otherwise he probably never will. He wets his lips, calling out to his roommate before he can stop himself, “Hey, Tweek?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek stops in his tracks, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, “Yeah, Craig?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig pauses, then sputters out dumbly, “I’m—Gay.” Tweek lifts an eyebrow at him, and he feels the need to clarify, “Just thought I’d tell you… I’m, you know. I’m gay,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Tweek finally replies, then grins, “Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig relaxes, lets himself chuckle, “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe it or not,” Tweek laughs, smiles at him again. “Thanks for telling me… See you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig waves to him and listens to him shuffles towards the door. Once the jignling of keys and the shut of the door indicate Tweek is gone, he bangs his head against the wall beside him, hoping that he’ll feel somewhat less stupid as the day goes on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>2.4</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of gunfire and explosions fills the small living room. Craigs tan fingers bash furiously against the buttons of his PS4 controller as he guns down the soldiers in his game. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“To your left! On the roof!” Kenny yells, enraptured by the gameplay.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I see him.” Craig replies in his usual nonplussed monotone, before focusing his aim and killing the enemy with a headshot.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek watches the two men, their eyes fixated on the screen unblinkingly. Kenny is lounging length ways over the armchair, legs hanging over the armrest closest to the TV. Tweek is sitting on the 3 seater sofa, back resting against the armrest, feet up on the cushion beside where Craig sat at the other end. He has tucked his feet under a pillow to keep them warm, and Craig has since commandeered the pillow to act as an armrest for himself, leaning his right side on top of the pillow. Tweek has his knees bent and his sketch pad propped up against his thighs. He is chewing on the end of his graphite pencil, trying to work on his anatomy and getting endlessly frustrated at hand shapes.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the hell am I supposed to go now?” Craig asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to zipline down that telephone wire and steal the army truck, and head towards the dock.” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t they just follow me though?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, duh. That’s why you have the car chase.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course there’s a car chase. Nothing’s ever easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If it was easy, you’d get bored and stop playing.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s lips pull up into a half smile. It’s nice to see Craig and Kenny bonding and bantering and getting along for once. Normally they’re at odds; Craig makes his dislike for the spirit very apparent, and because of that, Kenny purposely gets on Craig's nerves, testing the limits that he can go. Tweek sometimes feels like piggy in the middle, trying to placate both warring parties and keep the peace. He’s enjoying the chance to just sit back and enjoy both men’s company at the same time without having to play mediator.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes are drawn to Craig’s face, as they tend to do these days. He looks back down at his notebook, sighing at the distorted hand drawings. He flips his sketchbook to a fresh new page, removing his pencil from his mouth and putting it to paper.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A skull is a part of a human’s anatomy, so surely it would count as anatomy studies. He’s certain he can justify it to his teacher and count it as a part of his homework. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He starts mapping out Craig’s striking profile on the page, taking care to capture the sharp angle of his jaw, the roman slope of his nose, his long dark lashes. Tweek’s heart squeezes painfully. The longing is almost too much for Tweek, especially ever since learning that craig is, in fact, also gay. Not that it means that he’s interested in Tweek at all, but the revelation brought Tweeks day dream’s out of the shadows and into the realm of possibility, igniting the smallest ember of hope that Tweek has desperately been trying to snuff out. He doesn’t want to hope. He knows that the chances of someone like Craig being into someone like Tweek is next to none. He knows that the smartest idea would be for him to get over his feelings and move on. It’s always easier said than done though.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tweek?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek is drawn back to himself by the monotone voice calling out his name. “Uh, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you staring at me? It’s throwing me off and I keep getting shot.” Craig shoots a half-second glance his way, smirking at him and showing that he doesn’t actually care all that much.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment at being called out. “Shit, sorry. I zoned out and was just staring into space.” He’s grateful that Craig’s eyes can’t deviate from the screen for too long, otherwise he would catch the heat spreading across Tweek’s face and certainly catch him out in his lie.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“S’cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s eyes flick to Kenny who’s giving him a knowing look. Tweek's cheeks flush even further in shame.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Ken?” Tweek pipes up.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah Tweekers?” Kenny notices the way Craig’s face scrunches up in displeasure at the nickname. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I draw you how you’re sitting for my anatomy class?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure!” Kenny beams at him with his gap toothed grin. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Tweek smiles softly, turning to a new page free of Craig's captivating profile. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek moves his pencil across the paper in small scratches, glancing up every few seconds to try and capture Kenny's likeness. Tweek instructed him to keep looking at the TV so that he could capture his profile. He smiles a little to himself as he manages to accurately capture the curvature of Kenny’s spine as he lounges sideways across the armchair..</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you ever draw me?” Craig asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, if only you knew, Tucker. I could fill galleries with my sketches of you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Tweek stalls, not knowing what to say without entirely giving himself a way.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ‘cause you’re not as devilishly handsome as me, Craigory.” Kenny says, punctuating his point with a wink. Tweek shoots the ghost a thankful smile at the quick save.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Kenny.” Craig lifts his hand off the controller to flip the ghost off. In that moment, the assassin that Craig’s playing as gets hit by a critical shot. Craig huffs annoyedly. Assassin’s Creed was harder than he remembered. Or maybe it was just harder for him to concentrate when he could feel Tweek’s toes wriggling under the pillow he was leaning against. “For fuck’s sake, I keep getting killed.” Craig tosses the PS4 controller onto the coffee table. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re not very good at this game.” Kenny says. Tweek shoots him a glare. He was enjoying the peace while it lasted and he didn’t want Kenny to ruin it so soon by opening his big mouth. Kenny just shrugs back at him. “What? It’s true!”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you’d be any better.” Craig scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I fuckin' would be!” Kenny protests, throwing his legs off the armrest to sit up and effectively ruining the streak that Tweek had going in capturing his lanky body. Tweek groans, throwing his sketch pad on the table alongside the controller, abandoning his efforts. “And I’d show you if I could just hold the damn controller...” Kenny trails off sadly. As much fun as he's been having with Tweek and (to a lesser extent) Craig these past few weeks, Kenny misses being alive. He misses video games, and eating cheesy poofs, and seeing his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig frowned, sensing the change in mood. He looked over at Tweek who was looking at Kenny looking entirely worried and partly sad on behalf of his friend. Tweek was always a more empathetic person than Craig, a better person. Craig sighs, picking up the controller again. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m not very good at this game. I prefer metroidvania-type games like Super Metroid or Hollow Knight.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Metroid!” Kenny says animatedly, all signs of his earlier distress gone. “I used to play that on Super Nintendo back when I was a kid!”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig’s usually bored expression morphs into one of excitement. “Yeah, same here. I played it obsessively.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you prefer the battle with Kraid? Or the straight up brawl with Ridley?” Kenny asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Ridley for sure man.” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! One hundred percent!”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek chuckles a bit. He can’t believe that, after everything, all it takes is some old nineties video game to get these two to put their differences aside. Tweek’s laugh draws the attention of Crag and Kenny, interrupting their geek out together.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so funny?” Craig asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek smiles at the two men looking at him questioningly. “I was just thinking that you guys are both huge nerds.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The indignant looks that Tweek receives are enough to make him burst out laughing again.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what do you like to play then, Tweek?” Kenny asks once the giggling subsides.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m not really into video games. I only really play life simulator games, like Sims or Animal Crossing. Games where I can create an ideal life and pretend I have my shit together.” Tweek smirks at his own joke.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“AC is the shit man! When I’m alive again, I’ll have to come visit your island.” Kenny smiles brightly at Tweek.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Better bring a gift.” Tweek teases.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I never come empty handed.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What games did you play when you were alive, Kenny?” Craig interjects, feeling left out.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I would pretty much play anything, but my favourite games were third person adventure games, like Uncharted. I fuckin’ loved those games, especially the fourth one! That shit was the best!”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncharted?” Tweek asks questioningly.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never heard of Uncharted?” Kenny looks shocked when both Craig and Tweek shake their heads. “It’s the best game ever. It follows this guy called Nathan Drake who’s a professional treasure hunter and it involves lots of climbing and shooting and puzzles. It’s just, like, the perfect blend of everything that you could want in a game.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds complicated,” Tweek says, clicking his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like I’d probably be shit at that as well,” Craig says flatly, picking up the controller to try and finally pass this car chase sequence.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny bursts out laughing, throwing his legs back over the armrest and settling back into his comfy spot. “Facts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>2.5</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig’s wandering aimlessly through the aisles at Walmart. He had finished stocking up on junk food and beer in preparation for the boys night/unofficial house warming he was having at his place on the weekend and was now just wasting time, procrastinating on going back to the apartment and starting his fundamental physics assignment. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He finds himself in the gaming and electronics section, eyes scanning across the selection of PS4 games. A game in the bottom right corner of the shelf catches his eye. He picks it up, inspecting the cover closely before flipping it to the back to read the description. It sounds pretty cool, and the price tag advertises that it is on sale for half price. He hums to himself before unceremoniously chucking the game into his half-full trolley and heading towards the check out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>2.6 </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of butter and garlic fills Craig’s nostrils as he walks through the apartment door. He follows the enticing aroma to the small kitchen where Tweek is standing at the stove, wooden spatula in hand, while Kenny sits on the bench next to the stove waffling on about something like usual.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What's cookin’ good lookin’?” Craig says, without thinking. He buries his head in the Walmart bags, to disguise the heat spreading across his tan cheeks, and starts to unload his wares.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny looks at Tweek, eyes wide and eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Tweek just rolls his eyes, brushing off the comment as nothing more than a joke between friends. “Just some fettuccine alfredo. I was in the mood for some comfort food” Tweek replies.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so unfair that I can smell this but I don’t get to taste it”. Kenny basically drools as he stares longingly at the pot bubbling on the stove.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened today? Everything okay?” Craig says, entirely ignoring Kenny.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… It’s stupid really. I’m just being sensitive.” Tweek focuses his gaze on the sauce, stirring it slowly. He feels stupid for even being bothered by it, but he hasn’t been able to shake his bad mood all day.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not stupid, Tweek,” Kenny says firmly. Craig raises his eyebrow at Kenny. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek sighs, putting the wooden spoon down and wiping his hands on a tea towel thrown over his right shoulder. He meets Craig’s eyes. “We just had peer reviews for our composition pieces today, and this one girl—”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Olivia” Kenny says, rolling his eyes and huffing dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek chuckles. “Yeah, her. Well, let’s just say that she didn’t go easy on me... and now if I take on all of her suggestions—”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Which are total bullshit suggestions that Tweek should ignore!” Kenny interrupts again.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, Ken.” Tweek says, smiling at Kenny. “If I take on her suggestions and make changes, I’ll have to entirely change my piece and be ready to perform it by next Thursday.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what did everyone else say about it?” Craig asks ever the pragmastist.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone else who reviewed it was mostly positive. Kyle told me that I need to work on making the exposition stronger to better set up the rest of the song thematically.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that sounds like it’s actually helpful advice and not just nitpicking. Why don’t you just work on that part to show your teacher that you’re taking on the constructive criticism from the peer reviews but then ignore all the feedback that bitch, Olivia, gave you?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek nods slowly. “That’s actually a good idea, Craig. Thank you.” Tweek gives the noirette one of those lopsided smiles that seem to be reserved only for him and makes Craig’s insides turn to soup. “I’ll work on it after dinner then... Craig, can you get some bowls out of the cupboard for me?” Tweek turns back to the stove, turning off the heat.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig shoos Kenny out of the way, hands passing through the ghost's torso, to access the cupboard with all their tableware. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going, I’m going! Get ya grubby mits out of my guts!” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek bursts out into rippling laughter while Craig just smirks at the ghost. As Craig places the bowls on the small 4-seater dining table, the Walmart bags catch his eye. “Oh, Kenny,” Craig says, reaching a hand into one of the bags “look at what I got today.” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s eyes go wide as Craig pulls the game out of the bag. “Dude! You didn't!” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek turns around to see what all the fuss is about. “Isn’t that the game you were talking about the other day, Ken?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Uncharted! And it’s the best one; A Thief's End!” he stops jumping around like an excited school kid to shoot a questioning look at the tall, raven haired man. “I thought you hated these games, why did you decide to get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig shrugs, grabbing a bowl and serving himself up a heaped serving of the noodles. Tweek makes the most delicious food. Craig’s pretty sure he gained his entire Freshman 15 through eating Tweek’s microwave mug cakes and his elevated ramen noodles. “It was half price and you kept raving on about it, so thought I would give it a try.” Tweek shoots Craig a smile as they sit down to eat. The blonde mouths a silent ‘thank you’ to his roommate. Craig’s lips twitch up in response.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you won’t regret it! Can we play it after dinner?” he asks excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah!” Kenny stands over Craig’s shoulder, watching him like a hawk and waiting for him to finish his dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After a couple of moments of the only sound being their chewing, Craig breaks the silence. “Kenny?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you not stand right behind me while I’m eating? It’s not going to make me eat any faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I’m just excited. I’ll just wait for you guys in the living room. But don’t take too long!” Kenny’s ethereal form disappears around the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig rolls his eyes at Tweek, smirking. “I already regret this decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s responding laugh makes it all worth it to him though.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t the visuals amazing, dude!” Kenny’s eyes practically sparkled like an anime school girl as he stared at the screen. Craig’s playing the sequence as Nathan Drake escapes the orphanage to meet his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.” Craig’s not paying much attention to it though, too focused on Tweek and the way his hands dance across the keys of his keyboard piano. He has his headphones plugged in, so Craig can only just barely hear the melody of the song, but he can still tell it’s beautifully composed. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck that Olivia girl </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s pretty amazing, huh?” Kenny has been watching the way Craig’s eyes drift from the tv to the blonde every few minutes. He knows that look. It’s the same one he gave his boyfriend for years before he finally gave Kenny a chance. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Craig says, thrown out of his reverie.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tweek,” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig fixes his eyes on the tv, throwing himself back into the game “I guess so.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny rolls his eyes so hard, he’s sure they are going to get stuck that way. “You’re hopeless, Tucker.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig ignores him and keeps playing, using Kenny’s instructions to pass through the stage of the game easily. It’s actually pretty fun for an adventure game, and Kenny is right; the visuals are really well done. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” Craig says, breaking the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny gives him a questioning look when Craig fails to continue. “So…?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He clears his throat, the words seeming getting stuck there. “How did you and your boyfriend get together?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The ghost smiles fondly at the thought, “So, we’d been friends forever—we met in pre-school—and I just kinda slowly started having a thing for him. He was the popular kid, y’know, quarterback and shit. And I was the poor kid, so,” Kenny shrugs, “y’know. Fuckin’ thought I didn’t stand a chance, super gay. I also didn't even know if he liked dudes because he was always on and off with this girl. But we got closer as the years went by and we were just sorta flirting a lot more and one day, I just said fuck it and I asked him out, he said yes, we made out. Best day of my life,” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig chews and swallows this story, “You make it sound easy as fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“To be fair, it was a solid 11 years in the making. But still, doesn’t have to be hard unless you make it that way. Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Craig clutches the PS4 controller, jaw tightening. He gets what Kenny’s saying, but it’s also not that easy either. He could ruin everything. It’s better to just let it take its course and hope that the right moment will come along.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how the hell am I supposed to drive this stupid boat?” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Press X dude and use the left thumbstick to steer, it literally gives you the instructions on the bottom right of the screen. Are you that thick?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Kenny.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone as always for all the support! we love you :))))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>3.1</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spicy smell of marijuana floats in the air as a playlist full of old school hits plays in the background. Clyde takes a long drag on the joint, holding in the breath before coughing violently. He bangs his chest with his fist as the rest of the other 4 men (and one ghost) burst into loud boisterous laughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You never could handle your smoke.” Craig says, wheezing from laughing to hard. He reaches out for the joint, and then places it between his lips and takes a long drag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” Clyde wheezes out, flipping the noirette the bird, which just makes them all laugh harder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, I fucking miss getting high. This is such a tease.” Kenny watches the flaming ember enviously as Craig hands it over to Tweek. He doesn’t miss the way that Craig’s hazy eyes focus on Tweek’s mouth as he exhales the smoke in a thick plume between his full pink lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Ken.” Tweek frowns at the blond as he passes the joint to Token, one of Craig and Clyde’s childhood friends. “If I could do a seance and summon a supernatural joint for you, I totally would.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Tweekers, this is why you’re my favourite.” Kenny blows a kiss at the cult haired blonde, which Tweek catches in his hand with a giggle and presses it against his cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Awwww,” Clyde says, mouth open and chewing a large handful of salt and vinegar chips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Close your mouth, you pig.” Craig says, throwing a gummy bear at the brunette, who picks it out of his hair before putting it in his mouth and chewing loudly and dramatically just to rile Craig up even further. “If I wasn’t so stoned, I would come over there and punch you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Token rolls his eyes at his two friends, instead choosing to turn towards the two blonds. “You guys have become fast friends then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Token took to Kenny a lot easier, and less dramatically, than Clyde had. When he and Clyde walked through the door, Craig immediately introduced the spirit and explained Kenny’s situation, which Token took in stride. Clyde was huffy for a good 10 minutes because Token wasn’t given the same treatment that he had been, but he warmed up once the beers started flowing and the weed was brought out. He still was wary of Kenny, but he was joking around with the group now and having fun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess we have.” Tweek says, taking a long drag on the joint just passed to him by Token. Due to his myriad of  issues growing up, Tweek always stayed away from drinking and drugs, worried that one bad night could send his already fragile mental health into a rapid downward spiral. Over the years, as he became an adult, went to college and found himself exposed to more, he’s learnt that he can have a little bit of alcohol (but not too much otherwise the next day hungxiety is horrendous), that weed doesn’t seem to affect him negatively at all and is pretty much the safest option for him, and he needs to stay the hell away from everything else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s a pretty easy person to get along with.” Kenny says fondly, trying to ruffle Tweek’s hair, but his hand going straight through the wavy locks from where he lounges across the back of the sofa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he is.” Token says, exchanging a warm smile with Tweek. “On our first day when we were all moving into our dorms, we were so worried about who Craig would be paired up with, as he isn’t always the easiest person to get along with sometimes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny feigns a look of shock. “NO?! Really?! I would never have guessed!” Craig glares at the spirit, throwing a couch pillow that goes straight through the blonde. “I'm non-corporeal you idiot, what did you think would happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, but it was still satisfying for me.” Craig shrugs, going back to throwing jelly babies at Clyde, who was trying to catch them in his mouth and failing miserably. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway…” Token says smirking, and bringing the attention back to his story, “after we had moved all our stuff in, we decided to go find Craig and go out for dinner to celebrate our first night of independence as college students. We get to Craig’s dorm room, ready to get an earful about what a nightmare his new roommate is, and instead, we find Tweek and Craig standing on their beds, sticking glow in the dark stars on their ceiling and Craig was actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiling.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Token says, disbelieving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A tradition that has continued on in our new apartment.” Tweek says, smirking over at Craig and cheersing their beer cans together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The stars, not the smiling.” Craig says seriously, before taking a sip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And so we invited Tweek out to learn his Craig wrangling ways,” says Clyde, “and got to know him over dinner and realised that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>waaaaay</span>
  </em>
  <span> cooler than Craig, and so we offered him Craig’s spot in our group but he insisted that we keep this grumpy asshole,” Clyde threw a thumb in Craig’s direction, “around as well, which is again a testament to how much nicer Tweek is than Craig.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is this? The roast of Craig?” the raven haired man says, bloodshot eyes narrowed at his childhood friends. “I can be nice!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Token, Clyde and Kenny all stare at him for a few seconds before bursting into raucous laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you guys, it’s true!” Craig whines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek raises his voice over the laughter. “He can be nice! He did make me a coffee before work the other day. I mean… I do work at a coffee shop but it’s the thought that counts…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The confession just makes the other men laugh harder. Tweek looks over at Craig apologetically, mouthing a ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Craig just shakes his head and shrugs, as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘dont worry about it’</span>
  </em>
  <span> while handing him the nearly finished joint.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tweek, you’re too nice. It’s just a fact of life; the sky is blue, the grass is green and Craig Tucker is an asshole. Amiright guys?” Clyde says, looking at Token and Kenny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Correct.” says Token.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here, here!” Kenny says, toasting with an imaginary glass. His eyes are still following the nearly extinguished joint perched in Tweeks long elegant fingers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck what he wouldn’t give for just a puff right now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig lifts his right hand, giving an emphasized middle fingers to Clyde, Token and then finally, Kenny. “I don’t even know why I'm friends with you assholes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you would never be able to make any more friends with your shit attitude.” Token says, continuing the roast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I managed to gain Tweek as a friend!” Craig defends himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Puh-lease.” Kenny says, interjecting. “Tweek is a saint. He doesn’t count. He could get hit by a car and he would probably thank the driver for not killing him!” Tweek frowns at the accusation, but knows that it’s not far from the truth. He does tend to always see the best in people and ignore their flaws. IT has gotten him into trouble before once or twice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Definitely don’t need to hear anything about this out of </span>
  <em>
    <span>the bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Craig huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking down into his spot on the couch, and pulling his blue hat over his eyes. This petulant sulking just makes all the other boys laugh harder at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The song changes suddenly on the bluetooth speaker. “Fuck, I love this song.” Token settles his head on the back of the couch, eyes closed and humming along to ‘Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy’ by Queen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde sits up with a start with a maniacal grin, pointing at Craig. “REMEMBER WHEN WE USED TO CALL CRAIG THIS?!” he shouts across the small space, “BACK IN NINTH GRADE?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Craig says, sitting up and pulling his hat off his head, while Token resounds with a loud “YES!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kenny! Tweek! It was so funny! So back in highschool, Craig-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up Clyde!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-got it into his head that chivalry is dead-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chivalry </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>dead.” Craig huffs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-and the best way to get guys to date him would be to act like a total simp!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s not a bad thing to be a simp.” Kenny interjects. “What’s wrong with wanting to worship the person you’re with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The thing was that Craig’s perception of chivalry was a bit… weird.” Clyde said looking at Token who shrugged in agreement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like, remember that one guy? The one with Tourette’s? What was his name again?” Token asks, looking inquisitively at Craig.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig groans, running his hands over his face. He’s already lost the battle AND the war. He might as well give up. “Thomas…” he huffs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“THAT’S RIGHT!” Clyde says, jumping up and launching himself at Craig. He plants himself in the noirette’s lap and grabs him in a headlock. Craig doesn’t even bother struggling, knowing it will just encourage Clyde more. “And you want to know what Craig said to this poor boy?” He asks, big grey eyes sparkling at the two blondes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Tweek eagerly wants to know more about a young pubescent Craig and his gay dating adventures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde has to get his laughter under control before he can continue. “He said to this poor, straight boy ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe we can hang out, and I can do your laundry or something?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Clyde does a perfect nasally monotone impression of Craig and is in tears by the end of it. “Can you believe that?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clyde, I’m going to fucking kill you!” Craig’s muffled voice comes from the couch where he is attempting to suffocate himself with a pillow so that he doesn’t die from the embarrassment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek and Kenny dissolve into giggles, tickled by the idea of a teenage Craig offering to wash the clothes of his crush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Token is the next one to add onto the Craig pile on. “What about when he asked Michael to the prom, and he re-enacted that scene from </span>
  <em>
    <span>10 Things I hate About You </span>
  </em>
  <span>where Heath ledger sings ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You</span>
  <em>
    <span>’</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde releases his choker hold on Craig to clutch at his aching abdomen. All this laughing was acting like a work out for his long neglected abs. “I’m pretty sure I have that recorded somewhere!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have to show me this!” Tweek says, grasping at Clyde’s forearm. When Tweek catches the glare Craig is sending his way, he clears his throat. “For scientific purposes, obviously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason could you have to see that video for </span>
  <em>
    <span>science</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Craig asks, eyebrows raised quizzically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For undeniable proof that you have a heart.” Tweek smiles widely at Craig, hoping that he sees he is joking and that he hasn’t taken it too far and pissed his roommate off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Craig rolls his eyes but he smirks. “I’m going to go chuck a piss.” Craig pushes Clyde off his lap, before standing and stalking down the hall to their shared bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clyde collapses into the seat next to Tweek, placing his large bear-like hand on the blondes shoulder. “Oh, Craig has a heart all right! He acts all tough and unfeeling on the outside, but really he is a marshmallow!” Clyde releases tweeks shoulder, leaning back against the couch and resting his arms on the back support. “When Craig likes someone, he’s so fucking obvious about it, right Toke?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the last time, don’t call me that.” Token says, before turning to Tweek “but he’s not wrong. Craig can’t hide a crush to save his life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny throws a glance in Tweek’s direction to see his handsome face looking crestfallen. Kenny can almost see the cogs in Tweek’s head turning, as he absorbs what Token had said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tweek?” Kenny whispers softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s head shoots up, startled out of his reverie. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, I think I’ve just smoked too much.” Kenny knows that this is a lie as he watched the blonde only take 4 drags from the joints that have been passed around. Tweek rubs his hands over his face, using his middle fingers to press against his pressure points on the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.” Tweek pushes himself up and gives a half-wave to his two visiting friends. “G’Night guys.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny watches as Tweek walks the short way down the hall, and disappears through his bedroom door. Craig steps out of the bathroom, only half a second after tweek’s bedroom door closed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where did Tweek go?” Craig asks as he sits back down, eyebrows furrowed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He decided to turn in.” Token says, before shoving a salt and vinegar chip in his mouth, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny notes the subtle but obviously disappointed look on Craig’s face. He gazes for a long moment at Tweek’s closed door, before taking a long swig of his beer. “You guys want to play </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crash Team Racing</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Craig asks, picking up his blue joycon and turning on the console.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah!” Clyde snatches up the red joycon before picking up the purple one and throwing it to Token. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well on that note, I’m going to go have my own type of fun,” Kenny says, waggling his eyebrows. He starts to float up and through the ceiling, disappearing through the roof.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is he talking about jerking off?” he hears Token asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably.” is Craig’s reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya know,” Clyde says in that voice that Keny just knows he’s about to say something dumb, “It’s a comfort for me to know that I will still be able to beat my meat even after I die.” Kenny rolls his eyes, but he can’t suppress the chuckle that escapes his lips. Clyde is a dumb ass, but he does say some funny shit sometimes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Really, his excuse was a diversion. He didn’t want Craig to know where he was going. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny phases through the roof into the middle of Tweek’s room, to find the anxious blonde wearing a hole into the carpet from his frantic pacing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’re you doing, buddy?” Kenny asks once his feet hit the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek stops where he is and lifts his gaze to Kenny’s. “Oh, I’m fucking fantastic Ken, thanks for asking.” Tweek says in a vicious whisper, voice dripping with sarcasm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oookaaaay…” Kenny says. “Funnily enough, I don’t believe you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why!” Tweek says, still whisper-shouting. “I’m clearly fucking fine.” Tweek starts picking up empty takeaway coffee cups and pieces of scrap paper and furiously throwing them into his small bin. He yanks up stray shirts and pants from the floor before chucking them violently into his laundry basket. He then picks his foot up, stomping on the clothes with force and compressing them into the bottom of the basket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny watches Tweek with wide eyes as the blonde rage cleans his room, scared to say anything further and send him into a full blown meltdown. After another 30 seconds, Tweek whirls around to glare at the ghost. “Are you enjoying the show?” he hisses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tweek…” Kenny starts, speaking softly. “I get why you’re pissed right now, but don’t pay attention to what those guys say. I’m pretty sure that Craig is into you, dude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you think that I should ignore Clyde and Token who, by the way, have known Craig since he was in diapers and witnessed every crush he has ever had, because you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> he is into me?” Tweek throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank god</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you, Kenny. You clearly know him </span>
  <em>
    <span>waaaay</span>
  </em>
  <span> better than they do and can tell how into me he is by the way he basically ignores me. I’m sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thomas</span>
  </em>
  <span> would fucking agree in his freshly laundered clothes!” Tweek hisses, whisper shouting at Kenny so as not to alert the three men remaining in the living room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny can feel his temper rising, but chooses to bite his tongue. He knows Tweek doesn’t actually mean what he’s saying, and that he’s just mad and upset. “I get that you’re upset, but I really do think that he likes you. He just needs time.” Kenny sits down on the edge of Tweek’s bed. “Look at me and Stan. It took 10 years but-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well good for you, Kenny! You wasted 10 years of your life pining and waiting for someone to love you back, and you got what you wanted. But I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>me!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Tweek gestures a hand from his toes to his head. “Look at me! I’m a fucking mess! and I don’t have 10 fucking years to sit around and wait for some oblivious jerk to finally settle for me after he’s exhausted all of his better options like you did!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny sat dumbstruck. He had to admit that his words hurt, especially coming from such a close friend. He could see the instant regret that crossed Tweek’s face once he spat out his last venomous word, but the stubborn set of his jaw was too strong to let an apology slip past. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek dropped into his desk chair, head falling into his hands. The voice that escapes the dejected blonde’s lips is small and broken. “Can you please just leave me alone, Kenny? I just really need to be alone right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny nodded without saying anything, before exiting the room. He couldn’t deny the desire to be alone also. He knows that what Tweek said isn’t true; Stan didn’t settle for Kenny. Stan loves Kenny just as much as Kenny loves him. But the ache in his chest expands at the fact that he can’t fall into his loves arms and reassure himself of this fact. For the one thousandth time, Kenny wishes he could see Stan; to hold him, kiss him, wrap himself around him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He also wonders for the one thousandth time where Stan is now, and if he is missing him too.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>3.2 </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek tentatively opens the door of his bedroom, peering out into the hall. The lounge room is vacant, except for the beer cans and half empty chip packets littering the coffee table. Tweek strolls into the open living space and starts to clean up the evidence of the previous night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek jumps out of his skin at the fright, dropping the small pile of rubbish he had cradled in his arms. Once he realises who it is, he immediately starts shrinking in on himself. Guilt eats at his insides. He was awful to Kenny last night when all his friend was trying to do was reassure and comfort him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek spins around to face the ghost, unable to meet his eyes. “Kenny… hey…” Tweek pulls on his sleeve, body unconsciously hunching over even further, trying to shrink into himself. “Look, I just want to say I am really fucking sorry about last night.” Tweek drags his gaze up to look Kenny in his warm brown eyes. “I didn’t mean any of what I said. It’s no excuse but I just lost control for a second there and I really never meant to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, Tweek.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay good, because you know… like,” Tweek wrings his hands together, “you’re my best friend Ken, and I could never forgive myself if I ruined that over some dumb temper trantrum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny gets starry eyed at Tweek’s declaration of best-friendship. He steps forward and ghosts his arms around the smaller blondes torso, making Tweek’s body feel cold. “Damn these stupid ghost arms! I want to give you a famous Kenny bear hug!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek chuckles, eyes filling with relieved tears. “I’m so sorry, Ken. I’m such an asshole.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not an asshole and stop saying sorry, dude. Best friends only have to say sorry once.” Kenny pulls back with a wink. Tweek smiles, wiping an escaped tear from his cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s jovial face settles into a grim expression though, looking seriously into tweeks eyes. “But I do have a bone to pick with you. Something you said made me </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> upset.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweeks face drops, that swirling pool of guilt tossing his insides. “I know Kenny, and you have every right to be. I said some horrible things to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about what you said about me, you dumb ass, I’m talking about what you said about yourself!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tweek,” Kenny scolds, “you know that it wasn’t me that you were talking about in last night's little speech.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweeks eyes drop to the ground, stomach rolling as his anxiety increases. “What do you want me to say Kenny?” He says in a whisper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want you to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘you’re right Kenny. I’m talented and smart and funny and smoking hot and I am deserving of love’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Do you think you could manage that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek just gives an awkward laugh in return, feeling that inexplicable ball of doubt and self loathing come up to stifle any words of positivity that could escape his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny gives him a pointed look, crossing his arms over his chest. Tweek can’t handle the pressure of meeting Kenny’s direct stare, instead choosing to turn around and walk into the kitchen to make himself a sorely needed cup of coffee. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get much sleep last night as all the guilt, hurt and shame churned ferociously in his mind, fighting for air time. Kenny trails closely behind him, not letting Tweek get out of the conversation that easily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek pours himself a mug full of black coffee, before turning and leaning against the counter and blowing on the hot beverage cradled in his hands. “Look, I’m not quite at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>self-love </span>
  </em>
  <span>stage yet, but I’ve been thinking about it, and…” Tweek takes a sip of the scalding liquid before continuing, “I think I’m ready to try and move on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what does that mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek stares intently down into his mug, taking a long pause to try and calm the anxiety that this topic brings before continuing. “...I have a date.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shocks falls plain across Kenny’s handsome face. “You have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A date,” Tweek says again. “This guy that comes into my work has asked me out a couple of times, but I’ve always turned him down because I was so hung up on Craig, but clearly that’s never going to happen,” Tweek frowns, “so I texted him and surprisingly he still wants to go on a date with me so we’re going out… for lunch… today…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny chews on his lip for a second before giving his emasured response. “And you’re sure about this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek sighs. “I mean, I’m never really sure about anything, but it’s clear from last night that Craig doesn’t like me as anything more than a friend,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>uh… wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kenny thinks, “and if I’m ever going to get over him, I need to start putting myself out there so that’s what I’m trying to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny nods slowly at this, understanding where Tweek is coming from, but he cannot calm the unease clawing at him. Even though he has never heard him say it, he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Craig is in love with Tweek, and he wishes that Craig had pulled his head out of his ass and made a move earlier. It’s clear that Tweek has no confidence and was never going to be the one to cross that line first, and now it’s too late. Now two people who are clearly meant to be together are walking on paths heading in different directions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, he could see the anxious look in Tweek’s eyes and he didn’t want to upset his friend further, so he kept his thoughts to himself. “So, what's his name? What’s he like? Do you have a picture?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek’s mouth pulled up on one side. “His name is Christophe, he is French and he’s nice, if not a little intense. No picture unfortunately, but if the date goes well, you might be seeing him soon...” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s eyebrows raise at the comment. “Tweek! I didn’t know that you were such a little minx! I guess they do say that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Kenny laughs, making Tweek nervously chuckle in response. “What time are you meeting him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tweek checks the clock on the oven, before jumping and putting his mug down on the counter. “Shit, in 40 minutes! I need to have a shower.” Tweek races off towards the bathroom leaving Kenny to ruminate on the recent development of events. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenny feels a little bad for Craig, but he really doesn’t have anyone else to blame but himself. Kenny has been nudging him along these past few weeks, and now, the ship has sailed. He wonders how Craig will take the news of Tweek dating someone else. He would like to think that it would push him to finally confess his feelings, but knowing the raven haired man, it will probably just make him completely close up and vow to take the crush on his roommate to his grave. Honestly, it’s no surprise that nothing has happened between the two men, with Craig’s lack of communication skills and Tweeks way of overthinking everything until he is a nervous wreck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus christ, they’re fucking hopeless </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>3.3 </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s one of those afternoons that Kenny is completely alone despite Craig still being here. He has a massive workload of homework that he has a bad habit of waiting until the last minute to complete—but according to Tweek, it’s always immaculate. Kenny figures he works better under pressure, as Tweek speaks of Craig’s ability to do so with envy evident in his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having spent plenty of long, boring hours watching Tweek attempt to do schoolwork, he is quite cognizant of how Craig’s procrastination genius would bother him. If an assignment is due Friday, Tweek panics about it on Monday and tries to either create an outline for himself or actually begin working on it. An hour into whatever he tries, he gives up, far too distracted by either all of his other assignments or Kenny’s presence, or anything at all, really. Kenny thinks he had ADHD, but isn’t entirely sure. By the time Wednesday rolls around and Tweek remembers the assignment is due, he panics even more and either sits down and actually busts something useful out or pleads to Craig for aid—who, depending on the subject, either completes the work for Tweek or grants him the courage to complete it himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny is fairly positive Tweek has not done a single one of his worksheets for his required math course independently, which is admittedly pretty adorable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ghost meanders aimlessly around the apartment, trying to keep his mind from the depressing downward spiral that imagining how he and Stan have at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> made out in every room sent him on. Seeing such a frustrating display of mutual unspoken love between two men had been making the part of his heart that his boyfriend had softened thirst for the romance he deeply misses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny understands where his friend is coming from—he feels rejected, dejected, neglected, and all that. The revelation of Craig’s previous status as a hopeless romantic toward someone that was not Tweek was upsetting even for himself considering how awkward and unaffectionate he behaves now; however, Kenny is not convinced this means he is uninterested. Perhaps something happened to make Craig scared of another commitment, or he was just a strange kid, or he agreed with Kenny that Tweek is just too good to be true. Either way, Craig definitely harbors romantic feelings for Tweek—he’s just unable to express them. And extremely stubborn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chime of keys sounds from the entrance to the apartment during Kenny’s fourth lap floating around the living room on his back. He turns his attention to Tweek trudging across the threshold and throwing the door shut behind him. He hangs his keys up on the self-hook beside the door and simultaneously kicks off his shoes. Kenny laughs as he lets himself fall face-first onto the sofa, long hair flowing behind him and falling like a shroud around his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that it did not go well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek groans, flips himself around dramatically. He focuses his amber stare at a spot on the ceiling that does not have Kenny floating around it. “It really wasn’t bad. He was really nice but… I just… I don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he grumbles, grasping a throw pillow from behind him and smothering it across his face, letting out a muffled shout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s eyes widen, “Maybe… let’s not talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Tweek composes himself, he pouts a lip at Kenny, who has occupied a spot on the coffee table just before him, “Thanks. I can’t decide if I want to forget that just happened to me or not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable. Though, I can pretty much guarantee he’s tellin’ his ghost friend about how perfect and hot you are right about now.” Kenny jests, earning a smile and an eye roll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek tears at a loose thread  on the powder blue throw pillow and wets his lips. He asks tentatively, “I promise I’m not gonna yell at you about it again but… when you and Stan were getting together… did you have this much trouble? Like… did you have times where you were dating other people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny snorts at the surprisingly fitting comparison. “Yeah. I mean, most of it was just that I spent ten years being obsessed with him while he tried to figure out whether or not he even liked dick, but I’ve been with other people. Mostly girls since they’re so much easier to get and also hot. Stan was always with this girl, Wendy, and I wanted to hate her so bad but I just couldn’t—made it way worse. She was really cool and smart and sweet. Pretty much exact opposite of me. They were on and off for like… As long as I loved Stan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the opposite of you, Kenny. You’re smart and cool and sweet… I’m sorry I brought it up, though,” Tweek sigh sheepishly, looking up and away again. “I feel like a piece of shit every time I complain to you, your situations are so much worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny shakes his head, “Oh, fuck off, you know I don’t mind. Plus, I’m bored, so this is my entertainment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek knits his eyebrows together, “What do you mean?! Have you not been watching The Office when I set it up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, babe, but you know Netflix turns it off after a few episodes and these guys don’t exactly work.” He wiggles his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek groans again, “Jesus, I didn’t even think about that! I’m so sorry... I must constantly sound like a spoiled brat to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny shoots him a pointed look and a soft smile. “Stop it, dude. You’re fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny can tell by the look on Tweek’s face that wasn’t a comforting response. Cheeks still reddened, Tweek licks his lips and changes the subject, tone wavering slightly, “Y’know, I’ve never actually seen Stan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling slightly appreciative for a subject change in general, and also never shying away from an opportunity to gush about his favorite person, Kenny grins, “Just close your eyes and imagine Craig but white, more adorable, more muscular, nicer, sexier, and short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek bobs his head along with the list of descriptors before deciding, “I actually really can’t. Does he have Facebook?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s heart slams against his chest. Why the fuck didn’t he think of that? Desperate to gaze upon Stan’s face again even virtually, he slumps down to Tweek’s side as he whips out his iPhone. Excitement bubbles within him as Tweek taps his thumb against the blue square on his home screen. Facebook loads as he tells Tweek, “It’s Stan Marsh,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stare is glued to Tweek’s quick typing punching in the letters that make up his boyfriend’s name. The first account to pop up belonged to the man whose face is etched into every crevice of his memory. Tweek guesses, “This guy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Kenny breathes, a smile playing against his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek clicks on the profile and they examine his icon picture. It is a selfie of Stan with his old pet dog, Sparky, from several years ago. Kenny laughs happily, “I forgot how much he fucking hates Facebook. He was, like, 15 in that picture. I bet he hasn’t posted in a year.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrolling down Stan’s news feed to test this hypothesis, Tweek raises his eyebrows, “Two years, actually. And it's just about some freemium game update?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny sighs, “Yeah, he’s sorta addicted to those... He was always way more into Instagram because his dad never figured it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek swipes off of Facebook and goes for Instagram. Kenny has not felt so happy since he learned that people would be moving in. He falsely thought that somehow this meant his spirit could move on and potentially find Stan, which he knows now is terrible logic (though he still doesn’t understand the full scope of his immortal identity). Now he supposes the real excitement came from something actually happening to him, that was not watching his and Stan’s things be removed from the apartment by movers and Stan’s mother, Sharon. Kenny had caught a one-sided conversation of hers which indicated that Stan could not bear the thought of reentering their apartment after discovering Kenny’s mutilated body laying dormant in the middle of it. He was pleasantly surprised to obtain a good friend in Tweek, however. Especially since he was indulging him in being able to gape at his partner’s handsome face yet again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek searches for “stan.themanmarsh” and butterflies erupt in Kenny’s stomach at the much more recent pictures of himself and his boyfriend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww, look at you!” Tweek coos, tapping on a selfie of the couple. The description Kenny provided of Stan was admittedly vaguely accurate (though Tweek found Craig far more attractive), as his shock of black hair resembled their friend’s. In the picture, his eyes were shut, profile on display as he pressed a kiss to Kenny’s cheek—who looked almost bizarre, completely materialized and alive. Tweek can tell from the ghost’s appearance that his hair is blond and his eyes are brown, but they looked immensely more vivid and real depicted beside his boyfriend. He also takes a first examination at the light, brown freckles splayed across his creamy skin. He looks immensely happy in the photo, with his tongue darted out between his lips and his nose scrunched. Tweek exclaims, “You guys are super hot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right? Fuck, I missed seein’ him.” Kenny sighs as Tweek scrolls through an assortment of Stan’s selfies, photos of the couple together, pictures of Kenny by himself with hearts for the caption, and snapshots of various animals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek stops at another one of Stan’s selfies in which he is clad in a familiar garment. He turns his head to scrutinize the green hoodie Kenny wears eternally, then back to the photo of Stan, the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>South Park Football </span>
  </em>
  <span>easier to read, “You’re wearing his sweatshirt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny smiles, clenching at the fabric on his chest, “Yeah. Makes me feel like I got a part of him with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek grins sadly at this, the fleeting realization that that sweatshirt is likely stuffed away in a sealed evidence bag, riddled with bullet holes and Kenny’s blood making his stomach drop. Feeling as though he should change the topic, he began scrolling some more. Kenny points out a small, injured-looking golden retriever puppy in particular, “The owners named that dog after Stan because he was, quote, ‘so lovely’ in helping them find her and get her settled in… He works at an animal shelter. He’s amazing there,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek listens happily to Kenny provide the backstory of various snapshots. He knows that Kenny is a kind and caring person, but he has never heard him speak so highly of anyone or anything than he does Stan. Genuine love and adoration was rich in his tone as he gushes on about what they used to do. Tweek also learns that Stan’s father is absolutely insane and had recently purchased a marijuana farm and was incredibly obnoxious about it (though he produced admittedly good shit). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Kenny asks when Tweek navigates to the top of Stan’s profile. There’s an image at the top of the feed that he doesn’t recognize. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek taps on the most recent post, the revelation causing both boy’s hearts to sink. The picture is a flat, granite headstone, engraved KENNETH “KENNY” MCCORMICK. Frozen until Kenny asks, “Can you see what he said?”, Tweek glides his thumb down the screen to reveal the caption Stan had provided. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>I can’t believe it’s been a whole year without him. I really didn’t want to post anything and just not acknowledge what today is, but I think I’ve been spending too much time avoiding this. I miss Kenny so much. I never thought I would miss all of those annoying little habits of his, like how he snored really loud, or how he couldn’t go ten seconds without making some stupid perverted comment. I thought I would only miss how kind and strong and smart and compassionate and cute he is. But I miss it all more than words could ever say. I miss the person I was when I was with him, too. He made everyone around him better. Every single day I hope he’ll come back. Nothing has or ever will be the same. Part of me is gone forever, and I’ll never be able to fill this hole in my heart. One year ago I lost the love of my life to senseless gun violence. I love you Kenny. I can’t wait to see you again</b>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The post is from two weeks ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence for several minutes. Tweek tries and fails to come up with something to say as Kenny’s eyes scan the words over and over again. It’s then that the cold breeze of Kenny’s aura becomes much more intense than it had ever been. Tweek shivers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a year…” Kenny finally exhales. A battle between horrification, despair, and confusion rages within him. “That can’t be right, it’s only been a few months…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenny, I…” Tweek begins, immediately losing the vote of reassurance he thought he had to share. The words are stuck as a lump in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t have been…” Kenny trails off, floating upward and away from the couch, as if unintentionally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek calls out to him, a sudden rush of desperation to comfort him, “Hey, maybe we can look it up and figure it out,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny pauses, suspended in midair. It has never been more apparent since the day they met that Kenny is dead. His heart clenches when the man replies, “I need to go think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Kenny phases into the unknown and leaves his heartbroken friend alone on the couch. Tweek spends a few more minutes lingering on Stan’s profile, wishing more than anything that he could know Kenny in this way; or, for him to still be alive even if that meant never meeting him. When he feels tears well in his eyes, he presses the ‘lock’ button in his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek is dishearteningly unsure what to do, but he’s positive that something needs to be done to bring Kenny back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>3.4</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why is your hair so long, Uncle Tweek?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because I suffer from trichotillomania and used to compulsively pull my hair out and it looked insane and I’m proud of how far I’ve come and how long it’s gotten. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I don’t know, I just like it long,” Tweek says instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabrina shows her gap-toothed smile as she paws at Tweek’s shoulder-length, wispy beach curls. She’s being as gentle as a newly five year-old can, and he was able to hold back his hisses and winces. The child turns her attention to the other man occupying the love-seat in a sideways position, long legs dangling over the arm and phone in hands. She teases him, “Tweek’s hair is very pretty, Uncle Craig.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” Craig agrees, popping the ‘p’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tweek’s hair is prettier than your hair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s prettier than your hair, too.” The inadvertent compliment, even though delivered in the form of trash talking a 5 year old, makes Tweek’s cheeks heat up momentarily, before he remembers the current situation and his heart steels itself off again, reminding himself that Craig’s words are empty and don’t mean anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabrina pouts a lip, throwing up a hand to grab her on blond curls defensively. “My hair is the prettiest!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig rolls his eyes over to her, “Is that what your daddy told you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t listen to him, he is silly,” Craig assures her, tactfully avoiding the fouler adjectives he usually used to describe Clyde. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is not silly! Daddy is smart!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig lets out a fake, sarcastic laugh, “Right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling him you said he’s silly and not smart.” Sabrina concludes, resolving to twist the ends of Tweek’s hair again, who was enjoying the pair's charming back and forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, your daddy used to think I had the prettiest hair,” Craig jests, continuing his mission of getting under her skin. “Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>decided to come along. Now he has to lie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy doesn’t lie!” Sabrina exclaims, becoming huffy, addressing Tweek, “My daddy doesn’t lie, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, honey, Uncle Craig is just messing with you. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>have the prettiest hair,” Tweek assures her, gingerly bouncing a golden ringlet. “Just like your mama’s.” </span>
</p><p><span>Sabrina giggles at this, then returns to the task of unsuccessfully braiding Tweek’s hair and enjoying their second view of her favorite (and one of Uncle Craig’s favorites) film, </span><em><span>Spider-Man:</span></em> <em><span>Into the Spiderverse. </span></em><span>Around noon, Craig asks Tweek, “What do you want to do for lunch?” </span></p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care.” Tweek replies flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig cocks an eyebrow. There had been something off about his friend’s demeanor for a few days then, and more so than ever throughout the entire morning of their babysitting excursion. He tries to elicit a stronger response by continuing, “Do you want to order something or eat here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This has the opposite effect, as his second inquiry is acknowledged only by a shrug. Craig stifles and eyeroll and pulls himself upright. He traces into the kitchen in search of inspiration for their meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek was not the only tense one in the apartment lately. Kenny had been making himself scarce, only appearing when a concerned Tweek specifically calls out for him. He was made aware of the situation by Tweek, and he emphasized as much as possible for his acquaintance’s situation—though, it was difficult to imagine how one would feel if you discovered that you had actually been existing as a ghost for over a year and not the short, couple-months-at-most span of time that you originally thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The search for something to eat comes up short of anything that sounds appetizing to Craig himself; regardless, he traces back into the living room to address his niece and roommate. “Do you want grilled cheese, mac and cheese, or hotdogs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about chicken nuggets?” Sabrina negotiates after a prolonged hum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t one of the options.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I want chicken nuggets!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since I don’t have any chicken nuggets, what do you want? Grilled cheese, mac and cheese, or hotdogs?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want any of those!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to the real world, where we can’t always have what we want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek scoffs this, a sardonic and jaded sound that puzzles Craig. The blond turns to Sabrina with a soft smile, “How about we have grilled cheese and if you do a good job eating, we’ll go to the park?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabrina’s face lights up like a Christmas tree, accepting the terms. Her enthusiastic grins are what always reminded Craig of his childhood friend and her father; it was as if she was given the outlines of Bebe—long, flowing curly hair and a heart-shaped face—and the details were filled in by Clyde—button nose, deeply brown eyes, and a goofy, contagious smile. She’s pretty adorable, Craig supposes, but a little shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> little shit of course, but a little shit nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decision being made, Craig trudges back into the kitchen and begins food preparation. Generally Tweek does the cooking as he is far superior, but grilled cheese is one of the very few dishes he can craft effectively, and his roommate does not seem to be in the mood of taking favor requests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tweek, what do you want to drink?” Craig spouts as he flips the final sandwich onto its back with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sizzle</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.” He barely hears his friend's response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig cocks an eyebrow to no one, caught off guard by the first time Tweek has ever turned down a beverage (coffee or otherwise). “Nothing?” he repeats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said, Craig.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark-haired man lets out a sign of defeat before sliding the finished sandwich onto a red, porcelain plate. The first was plopped onto an old, plastic pink plate with depictions of small fairies chipping away slowly but surely. He had purchased it for Sabrina years ago, and was the only one he had for her to use. He addresses the young girl, “Do you want juice or milk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milk doesn’t go with grilled cheese, Uncle Craig!” her small voice returns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who made these rules…” Craig mutters to himself as he traces to the fridge and procures a jug of apple juice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon the three are feasting at their round, wooden table, enthralled in an anecdote from Sabrina’s new kindergarten class. The thought of her in elementary school makes Craig feel extremely old, even though he is in his early twenties and his friends conceived the child in high school. It more so makes him realize how fast time goes by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has already been friends with and interested in Tweek for two years. This thought makes it difficult to chew and swallow his crispy, cheesy creation. Especially when Tweek refuses to so much as make eye contact with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Promptly after lunch, Sabrina bounces up and down, “Can we go to the park now, Uncle Tweek?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek nods, gathering his empty plate and Sabrina’s half-full one as he stands, “Sure, sweetie. Go ahead and put your shoes on while I wash these off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay!” She shouts, darting off into the other room to do as she was told. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig jumps at the scarce opportunity to address Tweek individually, walking up behind him as he scrubs melted cheese off of their dishes. “Are you okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” The blond replies shortly, listless stare trained on the sponge in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t seem like it.” Craig explains. He absentmindedly leans against the fridge, attempting to view more of his friend’s face. He wishes he would merely </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him. Perhaps then he would obtain some semblance of an idea of what was going on inside his head. “You can talk to me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And say what, man?!” Tweek fires back. Finally, he turns his head, blazing amber stare locked on Craig’s. Now that his wish of reading his eyes came true, he just felt intimidated and even more confused. “What the fuck do you want me to say to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I,” Craig stammers, pinching his eyebrows together. “I don’t know what I did to you to deserve you getting all pissy with me, so maybe you should start there with telling me what your problem is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should fuck off.” Tweek spits back, throwing down the sponge and lifting the kitchen towel from beside the sink, all while maintaining that piercing stare. It finally breaks when he is done drying himself off. He stalks into the other room, forcing a bubbly tone to address Sabrina, “You ready to—oh, hey, Kenny,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig’s eyes widen at the name, instinctually hauling ass into the adjacent room. Clyde and Bebe were very specific about not wanting their child to be traumatized by the supernatural tenant haunting the space; not that Kenny would ever intentionally scare a child (besides Clyde himself, of course).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On entering the space, his gaze falls upon the specter crouching down to eye-level with Sabrina. His face is lit with a broad smile as she swung her arm back and forth, right through his head. She yells, “This is awesome!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you like that, then check this out,” Kenny tells her before he disappears into thin air. Her eyes and mouth widen together, turning around when she hears Kenny’s voice behind her, “Pretty neat, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah!” she cries, impressed by him materializing in a completely different spot. “What else can you do?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much else, m’afraid.” Kenny shrugs. “But, I’ll try and come up with somethin’ really cool to show you for when you get back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabrina pouts a lip, “You’re not coming?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny chuckles softly, pleased to have already gained the favor of the child he met mere moments earlier, “I’m sorry, I can’t leave! But you go and have fun with your Uncle Tweek and tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tweek grins at his friend, tapping Sabrina’s shoulder, “Ready?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods excitedly, “Yeah! I’ll see you later, Mr. Ghost!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny waves good-bye, watching briefly as the pair exit before averting his attention to Craig. He asks, “Clyde’s kid, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” Craig confirms, returning the wave Sabrina sends him before Tweek secures the front door shut behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ghost nods, “She’s real cute. Makes me miss my nephew.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig side-glances at him. “Your little sister has a kid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, my older brother. Kid’s four, and she talks like him.” Kenny reveals wistfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig nods, “You seem really good with them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Kenny says with a weak smile. He’s still wearing his kicked-puppy look as he turns to disappear somewhere again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Kenny,” Craig calls out to him before he can evaporate and leave him alone. He swallows when he earns Kenny’s attention, “do you know what’s going on with Tweek?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny pauses, opening and shutting his jaw a few times before shaking his head, “Not really, man, he’s just inna slump, I think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig creases his brow, “Oh, really? That’s all you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask him yourself, man.” Kenny scoffs, gesturing toward the front door. “He seems fine hangin’ out with the little girl.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he just told me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck off</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so he’s not fine, and I don’t know what I did to make him so pissed,” the dark-haired man exhales deeply, expression showing signs of desperation. “You sure there’s nothing he’s talked to you about? I would like to know why he’s being like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For fuck sake, Craig, ask him yourself.” Kenny growls, the second person in a twenty minute span that catches him off guard with an anger-laced response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig’s looks sours, “Okay, Jesus, I was just asking. Are you going to act like a bitch toward me now, too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s set jaw and flared nostrils made up a furious face that he had never seen the ghost put on. His usually smooth, steady draw is uneven and loud when he retorts, “You’re a bitch, dude. You’re too chicken shit to ask your best friend out on a fuckin’ date, and I’m a bitch? Fuck you, dude. I’m tired of watching you dumbasses fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>yearn </span>
  </em>
  <span>for each other and never act on it. It’s pathetic.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig’s chest, too, heaves with rage. He fires back, “Quit pretending like you’re some love expert. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what’s pathetic. You know it is not as easy as it looks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny exhales loudly through his nose and speaks with his hands, “I know I’m not a fuckin’ love expert, you dickhead, but I’m also not a fucking moron like you are. You know he’s dating someone now, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world around Craig comes to a screeching halt. Before his heart takes a dive, he asks Kenny, inwardly begging for it to be false, “He’s dating someone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s with someone that isn’t you because you took too long, made him feel unloved, and he’s moving on. I told your stupid ass that someone else was gonna swoop in if you didn’t get your head out of your ass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig lets himself fall flat against the wall, knocking a small breath of air from his lungs. His heart falls to the base of his stomach, separating on the way down. He really was too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny continues, riled up from finally expressing his frustration, “Both of you are so fuckin’ immature. Watching you two clearly be in love with each other and refuse to admit it is the worst fucking thing that I could imagine getting stuck with. The love of my fuckin’ life is absolutely miserable right now because I can’t leave this apartment to find him. I’ve been dead for a fucking year, and he’s been sleeping, eating, livin’ without me. I can’t just walk into the other room and hold him. You can. It’s fucking unfair. You don’t fuckin’ deserve that if you’re not gonna take advantage of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seemingly tuckered out from his first rant in probably years, Kenny clamps his jaw shut again. He hangs his head and turns to go, leaving Craig standing there, staring off into space and feeling even lower. Before he distances himself from the man, he turns to add, “I hope you’re really fuckin’ proud of this brooding mantra you got goin’ on, where people think its cute and funny that you’re an uncaring asshole. Meanwhile, it’s killing Tweek. The fact that you won’t just talk to him… It’s fuckin’ killing him, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig can no longer endure the scrutiny of Kenny’s words. His chest is heavy with a myriad of unpleasant feelings, the strongest being an agonizing combination of guilt and regret. Knowing Kenny was absolutely correct did not make the crushing disappointment of Tweek being in a relationship with someone that was not him any less devastating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes off of the wall and balls his fits at his sides. He seethes past the ghost, straight into his bedroom. After the door is slammed closed with a deafening </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he hears Kenny’s suddenly very irritating voice shout after him, “Oh, by the way, the dude he’s dating is </span>
  <em>
    <span>French</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So, good luck competing with the sexy accent of this rugged mercenary and his big </span>
  <em>
    <span>baguette </span>
  </em>
  <span>on top of the fact that he’s not afraid to tell Tweek how awesome he is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig wants to punch a wall. He wants to go out there and colonize his fists into Kenny’s stupid, snarky face. He also wishes the ghost could smack him, and Tweek would come home and beat the shit out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of any of this, he throws himself onto his bed and places earbuds in his ears. He blares his music and closes his eyes, finding his usual routine of burying his feelings significantly more difficult than usual. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>damn that chapter was a big boi!!!</p><p>For the folks who want to play along at home, JBK and I would love to see if you guys can guess who wrote which sections hahaha no pressure though , we’re just curious mfs hahaha </p><p>stay safe folks &lt;3<br/>- AC95</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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